Poetry. "A funny, mournful contempo apocalypse-narrative-Ezekialesque, lightly; fast-morphing Rimbaudian prose, spangly; Celanian neologisms, cast conversationally. These poems are fancy, not in an imagination-on- the-cheap sense but in an astral- observatory-at-the-online-mall Comola's "I" is an avatar in an infinite game riven with glitches and challenges, where our world's data- driven imperatives are reflected in cosmic-funhouse style. This book is huge, brainiac fun, and it reads dizzyingly fast."—Catherine Wagner
This book is what it is until it's not. A steady stream of both steadiness and changes. Slow and swift metamorphoses are juxtaposed into some truly special pieces of poetry.