Poetry.
Notice, she says, \'how the mouths of us grow large\' to take in such a nectar."--Carolina Ebeid.
Her lines create a vibratory music between the austere and the rich excess of a night that can dampen our \'Late morning\' in this city aflame.
When you come to the / precipice of your life and sit / in the dark.\' Here is the vertiginous danger and lure of the edge that marks the work of Gallagher.
I am speaking to you, // violet.
Look up, says the poet, to see the night these poems expose: \'In every black there is / violet. "To enter these poems is to step into a baroque architecture whose ceiling has come down, dismantled in fragments and glittering dust.
Poetry