![]() ![]() She listened to someone singing in a rain soaked sky at the bottom of an ocean. ![]() In doing so, she left this reader feeling sculptured, but not at all fearful: ![]() There is nothing to stand and declare loneliness when the wind scratches against saplings-initial here, initial there, toward anything, something seems.īrown crafts precise catastrophes designed to enlighten and frequently induce hallucination. From the onset, she delivers an intentional, intelligently snarky heft which challenges the reader to engage in immediate self-examination: Brown has crafted dreamy, sometimes nightmarish, micro-worlds that challenge the confines of three dimensions. This is a fascinating, musical, often melancholic collection from an alternate dimension. It is fitting then, that Rebbecca Brown’s brilliant prose collection Mouth Trap, Arc Pair Press, 2018, landed with a boisterous thud through my otherwise uneventful mail slot. October sings to me like a sexy yodeler, alternating abruptly between chest-voice and falsetto, simultaneously eerie and enchanting, vocal vibrations shaking foliage free. ![]()
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