Standing in the granite of his own voice. Remembering your gathering body. Hello, My Forever Ago, don't worry, you won't be reading this much longer. You will have already returned in a snowcloud, which is suggestively, fashionably, only ever one second old. Yes, Darling, it's me, it says as proof that in space, though there are many silences, fleeting isn't the opposite of infinite, but its perfect match. Four years ago, Ali Blythe arrived with Twoism, a remarkable debut collection, every line shimmering with life and shivering with erotically charged glimpses of completeness.
