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‘Andrew Grace leads us back into the heartland, where things still grow, where locusts tear at the edges, where “the corn outgrew us, clogging our horizon / until all we could see was our small box of sky.” Understated, sure-footed, these poems bring us close to a mythical American landscape, so that each of us can become seers again.’
‘Andy Grace’s poems pick up and turn over everything you missed the first time around. Nothing escapes his notice – it’s as if he is tuned in to every frequency at once. The poems are beautifully textured, delicate and yet disturbing – an unforgettable world of gnats, flies and locusts, “whirring ocean of motes and spores”, apprehended and remade with a facility and confidence rare in a new poet.’ —Tracy Ryan