“While I carried this 65-page chapbook in my to-read bag, the poet Leah moved from Cambridge, MA, to Palo Alto, CA. This Joan finds her place in this collection of big league, bare knuckle poems. She has a long poem called “the day i lived at the airport” that describes an interminable wait for departure. She writes:
blinking digital screens
all taunting the canceled flights
There are excruciating clock ticks and mass tension implodes. She finally makes her flight and the thrustful emotion is released.
lullaby of the engine
roars a quiet tune
do the rest
These are well-crafted poems of unpredictable stubbornness. [ ... ]”