home?

All poets love language, or know they’re supposed to, but Rebecca loves language in all of its guises-playful, invented, school, street. In the slippery world of these poems, a reader can’t get a grip, can’t stop the spinning and careening. A wild ride, and I hold on with fingers, toes, and teeth. I find myself coming back again and again for more of the addictive, dizzying pleasure of these words and the world Rebecca has made of them.