A Snowfire Not Born(e) Again enacts a form of mythic lingo, mapping new constellations we didn't know were there before. And yet, a mysterious familiarity pervades Matthew Goethe's first book...traces of things, forgotten histories lingering invisibly in the crepuscular interstices of some small forgotten town. What happens when you walk the whispering streets and tap on lamp posts with an old stick? Symbols recur in the alleys, on the oak branches, in the mind, on the inverted tongue. These are phonics set out to pasture, free ranging, disowned, untethered from association. You've heard this one before? Listen closer..critters slip up the unused part of your consciousness to gnaw on your house and cry. Such is this fever. Hear the song carrying shadow songs within. That is the delight of letting these words crackle along the oblique edges of your vision, unfolding new ways to encounter what we thought we knew by heart.
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