What makes “Out of the World” extraordinary is Snodgrass' relentless pursuit of play in the theater of her own fantastically absurd universe. Fierce and fluorescent, her poetry pierces as it lures and lulls the reader into bliss. It doesn't wobble or stagnate. Doesn't wait to be heard. When you open this book, sit with a plate of dinner rolls. Be thankful for the Appalachian foothills and dogs in space. For the wrens and language that is full of bones. — Neil de la Flor Author of "Out of the World" deploys a lexicon of words that shift even as they are written, othering themselves through space and repetition as they resist the cage of syntax. Like Laika the space dog, the poems are encapsulated, thrust forward, tormented into a visionary reconciliation of equestrian madness and radiant knowledge, a vision unsettled by semantics and catastrophe. This book demands attention of the kind paid to spiders: how they narrate their bodies with words spun from stars. "Out of the World" speaks of "cadence that is an imbalance of light" and asks us to listen to a "breached dream; wholly disheartened, wholly alive." — Patti White author of