"In these clear forecasts of the recent past, Erik La Prade frees
the reader to say an eternal Aloha to his phantom New York, a place
everyone thinks they know and own, and its 'remnants of an
unenclosed frontier.' All times happen at once here, which is why
it takes so long to get across town, and which is also why nothing
stays ripped up for long, and everything reverts to the 'lived-in
look.' A companionable observer inhabits these poems. Why not stay
a while?"--Jordan Davis
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