LAYNIE BROWNE is the author of several previous collections of poetry, including Pollen Memory and The Agency of Wind. Among her numerous honors and fellowships, she is a three-time recipient of the Gertrude Stein Award in Innovative American Poetry. She lives in Oakland, California.

Browne's work places her amongst the loveliest natural historians of perception: Goethe, Bergson, Lucretius. Like them she knows that ‘description becomes a portrait of not an object but a transference.’ The indetermination and synaesthesia in perceiving here find their register, locating the poem in what remains unbound, to the side of the image. This same oblique site spontaneously invents the ethical, showing that to describe is to honour an unknowable receiver. These poems gently host our plenitude.

LAYNIE BROWNE is the author of several previous collections of poetry, including Pollen Memory and The Agency of Wind. Among her numerous honors and fellowships, she is a three-time recipient of the Gertrude Stein Award in Innovative American Poetry. She lives in Oakland, California.

Browne's work places her amongst the loveliest natural historians of perception: Goethe, Bergson, Lucretius. Like them she knows that ‘description becomes a portrait of not an object but a transference.’ The indetermination and synaesthesia in perceiving here find their register, locating the poem in what remains unbound, to the side of the image. This same oblique site spontaneously invents the ethical, showing that to describe is to honour an unknowable receiver. These poems gently host our plenitude.

LAYNIE BROWNE is the author of several previous collections of poetry, including Pollen Memory and The Agency of Wind. Among her numerous honors and fellowships, she is a three-time recipient of the Gertrude Stein Award in Innovative American Poetry. She lives in Oakland, California.

Browne's work places her amongst the loveliest natural historians of perception: Goethe, Bergson, Lucretius. Like them she knows that ‘description becomes a portrait of not an object but a transference.’ The indetermination and synaesthesia in perceiving here find their register, locating the poem in what remains unbound, to the side of the image. This same oblique site spontaneously invents the ethical, showing that to describe is to honour an unknowable receiver. These poems gently host our plenitude.