Mallarmé's symbolism invoked early on, DeCarteret's poems speak of a life spent in conversation with the self and other poets. The poems weave themselves, tease out meaning the more you read them. Anagrams constantly talking back to themselves, they honor as they grieve for poets and poetry. Genius segues link these poems' motifs, hold them up to the light: from window to water, sun to flame, pen to tongue, words and wordlessness, paper crumpled, balled up like asterisks, webs to madness to mazes. They are the lack as much as the purposefully left blank. These poems will make you pay attention - to elements, ghosts and chairs - reckon with religion. The poet's trick, "throwing one's latest voice", tricks the poet. Marrying language with meaning. Leaving punctuation to ampersands, question marks, and slashes, the line break is the modus operandi. Not a period in sight, the poet ends lesser case with itches still left to scratch. They reach the reader, who might be holy if they would make the poet whole.

- Jessica Purdy, Author of Sleep in a Strange House