Armantrout begins with a not-so-mundane point: Tense and tenuous / grow from the same root.

Armantrout's first stanza, about the terrain ghosts create, brings into relief the strange world-building of lying.

This text serves as the intersection of a few complicated themes: the cheapness of capitalism, relationships, and identity.

In recent days, the problem of tone has asserted itself rather forcefully. Those subject to second-class citizenship meet a litany of demands about their tone.

I do not believe the classics will be lost, unread and thrown aside, because things I don't like are popular.