Crush

The devotional, unrelenting, deviant Crush is a linguistic feast: the word is everything in Stockton's and Gilson's world, except when it isn't, except when it's time we "shoved // our jeans down and stepped / into the world." This is a sensual - perhaps a better word is bodily - collection, the scent of shit and frowsy hats and bleach and the boy who "always smelled / like cat litter" adding some much-needed filth to poetic longing - for what is longing, frankly, without the cleanup after?...