"In Erik Fuhrer's not human enough for the census, there are creatures of dark habits, organ breathers, tree butchers, and 1 in 100 scientists agree the state of god is liquid. In these poems, aftermath requires a new language. Dust and ash compound with mother and father, mud compounds with blossom. These spare lyrics contain numerous transformations, and "just because the body is gone/does not mean the absence of body is gone." Absences loom everywhere--the mouth, the breath, the treacherous god in the tempest." -Traci Brimhall
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