Do we slight desire when we say crush? No, Lea Graham seems to answer,
we praise it. Less like a reservoir of recollection than a synaptic
centrifuge, Hough & Helix spins and strains the blood rush of our days
and words until all that remains is their compacted essential elemental
charge-the poems flash and flirt on the page, surging like the "million
tiny lightening storms" within us. In playfully fresh language and crisp
images, this speaker collapses time and space, elegy and ode, as
Latinate diction beds down with slang. A raw sexuality and emotion-think
Brando and Elvis and The Venus of Willendorf-haunt the collection the
way Wayne C. Booth haunts The Craft of Research. -Kathleen Graber