God Damsel

Reb Livingston (hymnographer, crier of laments, wry chronicler of blockages, seepages and Thingamabobs) combs the spiritual runes, tunes and ruined stockings that remain after traffic between the sexes. God Damsel is a fractured, fractious and funny allegory which just might get biblical on your ass. Check it out.

Tom Beckett

Just because fairy tales don't exist doesn't mean we don't need themneed their promise of a happily ever afterneed their heightened, fanciful language to infuse our flat, modern vernacular with pomp and poof and oompfbut need especially their infusion of momentous meaning into our seemingly pointless actions and humdrum adult lives. Through that hole of need enters Reb Livingston's stunning God Damsel: a pyrotechnic, syntactical orgy wherein the speaker's both creator and victim of a world that mirrors our own in disappointment and loss. She's a creator of her own language, yet a victim of the limitations of all language. The poems are like the bizarre, hybrid-mutant animals slithering around the island of Dr. Moreaucross-breeds of humor, whimsy, sharp intelligence, and deepnear unspeakablesadness. I can hear Henry Darger's Vivian Girls eerily reciting from God Damsel, like a primer, in unison. Do avoid the dreaded Woe-Dodo, and take a stroll through the puffy pink clouds (careful to avoid the inky-icky black pits) of God Damsel-land.

Jennifer L. Knox

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