Who Is at the Door?: On Brandon Shimoda’s Hydra Medusa
The haunting is never settled. It moves in every direction, changing shape, folding inwards, transforming the living as it does the dead. All of us: diaspora of the ___.
How to Die in the Twentieth Century
This makes of poetry—true poetry—either a task that is more difficult even than sainthood, or else simply a fool’s errand altogether. There is a dignity specific to either option.