by Kevin Sampsell, June 28, 2009 3:34 PM
Glenum returns with another grotesque and fantastical orgy of poems. This time they seem to be connected like a weird Richard Foreman play translated into redneck, red-light Dadaisms. Her words blur and hiss like a radio not quite tuned right, but you can't turn it off because they're saying things you've never heard or imagined before. These poems make even your weirdest dreams seem boring.