"If flesh (or any worldly thing) could be made word, it would be by Pushcart Prize winner Byrne. "Beget-began with the rain in velvet swags," she says of downpour, while fire is "flame-hooded in city snow–/ who sulfurs, suffers for it." And she makes ideas real and touchable, too: "Now/ consider the cement chair and know/ instead periphery" says the poem titled "Idea." Byrne opens with a meditation on language ("because hunger once ate/ in a Feast of Lanterns, light caught in the mouth./ Babel: traders and navigators"), showing it at its protean finest, as her own poems are: sparkling, luminous, richly packed, and a real tumble into another state of mind. VERDICT From Shakespeare and stars to Rilke and lust, Byrne incarnates a wealth of subjects for smart, committed readers."– "Library Journal"
