he poetry of psychoanalysis, feminism and gender, questions of the 21^st century self, and the accelerating pressures of standardizing capitalism upon the human mind.

Kim Rosenfield places the funhouse mirror of the psychoanalytic endeavor in full-frontal view, without sugar-coating and without filters, inviting readers to participate in deep-diving investigations. Psychic provocations are laid bare while being surrounded by the honest warmth in Rosenfield's voice. Rosenfield's poems are simultaneously mature, fresh, and energetic, breaking through the newly creeping American homogenizations, exposing the everydayness of all that oppresses the mind and voice: "the shit you smell / just might be your own." In six irregular and ambitious sections, Rosenfield offers a path of transcendent survival: one that protects human intuition and improvisation.