A book that seems to have all of Earth in mind, all its places and creatures, not as sentimental other but companions. Craft's poems are certain, his language a landscape of its own - hard, pressured, and flecked like sedimentary rock - that occasionally upends the reader as a form of tectonics.
Traverse seems to have all of Earth in mind, its places and creatures, Craft's language pressured and certain. The poems explore life's traversals as simultaneously exceptional and mundane.
