It’s almost porn. This reads like prose broken into poems. Or a prose poem broken into stanzas. Or a thing that doesn’t need a definition. This proves that artists just are: unplanned rebellion that seems obvious. This reads like people think: so many quick, witty moments that just get dismissed. And it is rooted in the Inferno; unbelievably, she’s rewritten it all. Re-captured it in an even better version. And she’s hilarious: the writer, the speaker, the fictional real Eileen Myles. Within a description that seems so much like prose, you’re sitting right in the middle of a poem. It’s all over the map. It’s aware of you, reader, and overly aware of writer. It’s better than reality TV; way better. No matter how you feel at the beginning, by the time you finish this, you will be convinced that the very elite on the spectrum of enlightenment, are lesbian poets. What more is there? Rejection abounds; and where there’s rejection, there’s an absolute artistic forte. There’s nothing like this; it’s honest the way a child is: because there’s no point in hiding things. It’ll make you laugh, for sure; it might also tie you up and make demands: submit.