Apr 23, 2016
Alina, Do I talk about this a lot? Is it like I'm old and telling the same stories over and over again? If I say something like "this poem reminds of the Blood Brothers" am I repeating myself? I guess what I mean is it's viscerally surreal, it's ornate, it's excessive, it's dripping with something shining—jewels, various fluids, scales, molten rock. I have no critical faculties for work that hits me like this. It just registers as pure sensation. (Even the art on the cover of the book is like the art from Burn, Piano Island, Burn. What was in the water in the early '00s?) So enjoy the sensation. It can't be paraphrased. Love, Thomson (The Hounds of No is available from Small Press Distribution)
