The future is all around here.' It's a place, anyplace where we don't exist.

Metaphor is ritual sacrifice. It kills the look-alike. No, metaphor is homeopathy.

We are all full of discourses that we only half understand and half mean.

The future is all around here.' It's a place, anyplace where we don't exist.

Lily Brown writes with and against things in poems that are coiled up tight as springs (or snakes). A believer in the power of the line, she writes, 'I think the plastics/and sink them' then 'Where is the sand/man hiding the dirt.' These terse, biting poems will make you look around and wonder.

We sleep together in the dark but confuse light with love.

The fear that all this will end. The fear that it won't.