In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

22 | Eleven More American Women Poets in the 21st Century Untitled # 70 (Or, The Question of Remains) The day she put on her glitz teardrops and O Hon lip gloss, ate an orange on an empty and took the 8-train to Grackleville, she met a man climbing a narrow stairwell, repeating to himself, This is all, this is all. The music of a popular march played in his head. This, he said, is all, directing any further comment to a longtime opposition blooming in his chest. No, he said, to the offer of a chaotic labyrinth of clouds, devotion, rain, creatures of fables, and opulent solitude. Alone he entered the thicket of empty situations, the rhetorical force of conversation, muttering as he went, This is all— Apprentice to death. Toxic grace. Terrible and beautiful repose. Dismay and murkiest waters. The blighted morning. The coordinate night. The sad fact of the pink glow of Grackleville’s late iridescence. ...

Share