by Sara Veglahn | bio
25 pages | 2009
This prose-poem sequence opens with the following sentence:
"Scenes left on the cutting room floor flower into their own scenery."
Such an auspiciously suggestive start functions as a distillation of
the book’s prismatic echo chamber, where painterly lyricism and
narrative probing converge within each musically astute sentence.
This is a symphony of partial happenings, ghostly movements, and
investigatory ruminations, a stroll through an exhibit of paintings
that seem to stare back at the viewer: captivating, gorgeous, and
just a little bit scary.