Twenty free verse poems in a concentrated form flagrant with rust-belt rhythms and experimental touches. Armstrong batters our minds with a surreality-tainted voice. "Her story is sad, I feed it to a goat." This is enchantment for the lost ones, of the lost ones, by a lost one, suggesting patterns which pop and sizzle. "...while liberty/ lies dying at your feet, a monolith/ with a dirty syringe stuck in her arm." With lacerating explicitness Armstrong digs out pieces of the foreboding emptiness within us all, and does it in an amusing way.--R.R. Lee Etzwiler
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #4,
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Copyright Burning Press 1994, 1995.