Curtis L. Crisler sings a midwestern blues filled with Mama's cake batter and ashy legs, boomboxes and T-ball. Walking through these pages, I swear I could hear the music of the streetlights turning on, telling me to get home before dark. Curtis' poems live in the dark - and they capture the scent of laughter and tears like lightning bugs in a mason jar. Open these pages and drink in the light.
--Tyehimba Jess, Pulitzer Prize winner, and author of Olio