News at Eleven: It might be the wonderful effect

of translating inner speech to the page (and not in a merely Joyce-ian or Woolf-ian way). It might be a disorder of thought. It might be a sense that words themselves are machines, self-aware objects breathing out meaning: "the word 'skeleton' turns a crank/and the moon comes up." The poems can be quite touching, simply because they are packed with loveliness. They can also be dry and dull, simply because they are too packed.

from Bookslut: Book Made of Forest by Jared Stanley

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