The first thing I love about these poems is that they are breathless because they are urgent:
A process occurs when you give up your language and start calling things by new names but there’s not a term for how new phrases infiltrate your reflex it starts with the gutturals and when you try to give it up try to back out the primal language dialects but you will understand shouts of surprise from the last place to wipe clean.
The second thing I love is that they are unflinching, which also makes them really funny -- humor of the delightfully-dark variety:
when I hear the word culture I reach for my checkbook
There's lots more to love.
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