Staff Reviews

There’s the slightest of windows. Through which a poet’s shown the light. The rest is shadows. Worlds snowed in by an ageless doubt, grief. Yet more and more versions of night. It is here where the best poets gain a second wind. A third and fourth sight. That not only allows them to outwit the dark. Sit it out. But use it to reinforce all their words. Let them settle deeper in the page. Seek out some relief. The timeless releases in John Perrault’s Seasons of Shagginess do just that. They’re wiry and plenty witted. Made with the most renewable of energies. And though often drawn inward. To the matter of heartache and loss. They know when to turn over. Their work to the soil. Return to what got them here. Dig in. And give the lowdown. When it’s good for the soul. Just wise enough not to gain our suspicions. Or insist on sage status. Perrault not only gives us the read that is needed to get us in. But the guidance for when we want to get out