Where does love come from?
Where does it go?

That crackling birth
and monotone death

Are we nothing more than
lithium-
batteries
with an expiration

What if our brains are slaveowners
and love was never meant to be imprisoned?

Take a poetic sojourn on the bridge between dream and reality. In her second book of poetry, Bianca Bowers shifts between consciousness and sleep, reality and dreams, as she seeks to find passage in a restless landscape. "My feet were fused with a 7-lane highway. My spine, dismantled; a map of bones with no instruction." Passage is a surreal and real exploration of the transient spaces that have the power to destabilise our relationships, identity, and sense of belonging. "My ghost beckons me into the misty pines and I follow, like Autumn."