"Traveling from her pastoral America to Neruda's Chile and the Ireland of St. Kevin, Elizabeth Breese sings the lonely-wild lyric of ditch flowers and raw honey, tornados and radios, broken birds and sailors lost at sea. Her ars poetica: 'little bee hand in pocket editions, the rough-/ cut paper combs, dancing for the things it loves.'"-Harryette Mullen"As with Dickinson and Stevens, to understand an Elizabeth Breese poem is beside the point; one apprehends it, the way one does a scent or strain of music. Roving, impure, funny, brainy, and passionate, hers is work I want to keep beside me for the good company and generous pleasures it offers line by gorgeous line."-Kathy Fagan
About the Author
Elizabeth Breese teaches composition at the Columbus College of Art and Design. She received her M.F.A. from The Ohio State University. Recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Barrow Street, FIELD, and Hayden's Ferry Review.