"In Sandra Simonds's poetry, a terrific, nihillistic dislike of herself and others (her heroine "dires" men) vies with an extreme will to prevail in full color. The tension is sustained by an imagination of remarkable fertility and a rich and crowded verbal palette. Simonds writes to sting. She's like a Plath whose capacity for erotic altruism has thoroughly imploded, producing a crisis that only a brilliant talent could turn into a field of triumphantly exhibited power. Simonds has such a talent." --Cal Bedient
"For 100 years, maybe 3000, poetry has wanted to know what it is. Sandra Simonds shows it. Every outset projects a lack the sequence must undo, overturning postponement our wanting’s askance with preposterous now. Why these baubles on the brain? Food, fishes, Poland. I am small, she says, her happenstance clothing the essential. That wilderness holds together, discloses organum, who knew?" --R. M. Berry
"Sandra Simonds' poems are hyperactive conduits into the chaos of our lost-at-sea moment in time. She's in love with words and all the damage they can do. La belle dame sans papiers--she's witty, smart, a real troublemaker, playing the lyre of her twenty-first century blues." --Barbara Hamby
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