In the poems of Jennifer Husk the world is a membrane words bounce against and poke into, skating on the scrim then delving below in quick sharp digs of fragment, image, and gut-punch.
"In the poems of Jennifer Husk the world is a membrane words bounce against and poke into, skating on the scrim then delving below in quick sharp digs of fragment, image, and gut-punch. This work is 'river dialogue' and 'glare on the surface' all at once, achieving experiment, a sustained rhetoric, intimacy and political weight in one go. If Van Gogh graffitied 'The Starry Night' on an urban wall then broke it apart with a mallet, you might get at something resembling the rough and precious texture of a Husk poem. Her register is horizon-wide & she jumps its length in a blink: the same stanza holds 'rooms of dust' and 'harmony, ' then enjoins us to 'hack the map' and 'tag it city-wide.' This is a skateboard train anyone wishing to journey the sidewalk, desert, star, and cerebellum should hop on, presto." --Ana Bo i evi "Stars of the Night Commute" ("Tarpaulin Sky Press," 2010)"
