A 5-poem sequence whose first poem ends: "like the window's seen from inside the wall where/ the damp dreams bloom like the mold pressed in where my/ lack churns like an I thinks in." Most of this makes normal sense, even the image of a "lack" that "churns"--or an agitating awareness that something's missing; but "like an I thinks in," in typical Bennett fashion smears us whereless. An eventual semi-comprehension is possible, though. For instance, the "I" might be sinking into the persona's mind as pure thought, but doing so in the churning way some sense of incompleteness might emerge into consciousness. Yes, very mold-murky, but engrossing for those of us that like this kind of adventure.--Bob Grumman
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #2,
Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press
Copyright Burning Press 1993, 1995.