The iconic highway known as Route 66 is a mythic part of America and its car culture—conjuring images of convertibles cruising from Chicago to L.A., as the 1950’s hit song proclaimed. But Wiseman travels at the slower pace of a cyclist—getting her kicks at 17-22 mph. Spare, imagistic and episodic, these poems invite us to cruise along with her, taking in ghost glimpses of what once was and the “strange culture of what remains.”
-Grace Bauer
