It sings with the kind of pellucid confabulations inviting (sacral or secular) communion, interaction or saturation, both in terms of the marks on the page as well as their worth and value beyond it, not merely reflected but fiercely enacted, sailing through cautionary slips of literary, cultural and philosophical seas, nuanced with introspection and the continuous stutter of reinvention, a solipsistically even-handed and sure-footed anchoring in this glorious universe, one yin-yang mindfulness of a distinguished pair of twos at full-throttle blip-zap revolutions per nanosecond on the time-space continuum where voracious readers grow as much with this gracefully disgraceful work as it grows with grateful readers.
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