Description
“These are poems of a rare and exquisite composure. A sonorous, achingly precise cry from the heart, an antidote to ‘mock the grotesque braggadocio.’ Chris Tysh has drawn her sword, and it is a weapon of great beauty: razor sharp and shimmering, a thing that cuts to the quick”—Paul Auster. “The very fact that we call heraldic symbols ‘devices’ makes them vulnerable to another realm—the poetic—where prerogatives can (and, as Chris Tysh believes, should) be rethought and ultimately dispersed. Tysh’s writing doesn’t say we shouldn’t be somewhere, but it acts out a being there in a different (gorgeous and unpunishing) way”—Lyn Hejinian.
