From the Publisher
"From the towering absence of a bluegum eucalyptus to the 'No phone calls/flashing on the answering machine,/no hang-ups or warnings . . . no one between her and the edge/of the bed, no soft collision/to save her from falling,' James Harms has a real gift for engaging his reader with the palpability of loss and what he terms 'the stillness that follows loss.' At his best, his eye and hand are brilliantly coordinated, as in his evocation of Los Angeles:
I drove today as if to somewhere.
I spun the dial left to find a song.
And the space between stations was a thousand throats clearing.
It's in 'the space between' that James Harms clears his throat and so effectively finds his song."PEN/Revson Fellowship Citation for The Joy Addict