Can You Relax in My House

An isolate, protracted surrealism attaches to objects, animals, and emotion in Craig’s semi-rural outlandish poems. Readers are embroiled in textural exposition, encountering dark recessions against a relief of interior truth: “Today you strike me as needing something./ So take my ten-thousand-pound typewriter …For here is an older,/other world, taking almost forty sheep to make one sock.”