Wiseman lunges toward unfamiliar space(ships) like she’s catching a well-timed airport taxi. Her enthusiasm is pandemic yet it shouldn’t be quarantined. The alien life appearing in the poems of Stranger Still is met with the compassion best friends exhibit before they’ve disappointed one another. There’s an intergalactic chance they’ll never disappoint. – Jeffrey Hecker
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Stranger Bowen
Cast in the light of eerie Area 51 telecasts and atmospheric static, Laura Madeline Wiseman’s poems exist and revel in strangeness–of our selves, our domesticities, our bodies, the huge midwestern sky. Each poem touches, with both humor and wonder, our sense of human-ness (not necessarily the same thing as “humanity”) and what that means in the light of…
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