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Reading WINGS IN TIME reminds me of wandering, when I was young, through the aisles and alcoves of my local video rental store: a menagerie-slash-kaleidoscope of scintillating titles and seductive images. And there was also, as there is with Garnett’s poetry, something vertiginous, forbidden, even scandalizing, about what was being offered—the possibility of being thrown, by desire, and by a simple choice, into an awakening from which there could be no return. WINGS IN TIME has brought—keeps bringing—me back, to all of that. It is poetry as the exhilaration of browsing and submitting to the inexhaustible medium of life, all living drama.
—Brandon ShimodaView playlist