
Portland-based writer M. F. McAuliffe was shocked by the death of Ursula K. Le Guin more than she could have imagined because she'd never imagined it at all. These twenty five unconventional elegies, written over the course of the following twelve months, are the aftershock.
The poems are heart-rending and at the same time full of love.
-- Luisa Valenzuela, author of Clara, Strange Things Happen Here, The Lizard's Tail, Deathcats
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"Each day the world got a day's worth of worse, and went on," McAuliffe writes, and this sensibility of survival, of "climbing chalk cliffs by front teeth alone" gives us this -- a particular grief, a critique and context, a poetic something-more, on the death of Ursula K. Le Guin. A monumental monument, a sending forth of some Great Ship, a pain-spattered sunset, a howling -- and more.
-- Jenny Forrester, author, Narrow River, Wide Sky, and A Memoir and Soft Hearted Stories: Seeking Saviors, Cowboy Stylists, and Other Fallacies of Authoritarianism