The Cantor Set is a poetry collection evocative of love and loss. It's poetry about math, moths, beetles, and wolves. It's the banned book. A book of alchemy. It's a collection of lyrical intensity, a haunting enigma, the graph of a relationship's signature and its restrictions. These are poems of longing, outrage and exclusion. They are poems of boundaries, choices and the limitations the bide them. "It's not war, it's a grace called privacy, / you shoveling mulch, gravel, / me in the worn hock of tannin leaves / reading bones, the squall of radius and ulna / catching light on the ground...

The three poems that comprise "Resin" create a narrative about wounding, about an immensity of things we miss in our interactions. About the magnitude of crises we are facing in the midst of our vast denial. Make no mistake: "Resin" opens post trauma, and in it, we face an aftermath and the scope of its question and consequences. "Resin" questions personal and anthropocentric narcissism. It engages reflections on the critical question: Where are we going? It asks us to step beyond simplistic notions to embrace a systemic, synchronistic totality.
"Resin" will appeal to people connected...