Like wrangling elastic flamingoes and dyspeptic hedgehogs around wondrous croquet pitches, like rolling bocce with hair-triggered hand-grenades in a downpour of jazz-scatting jarts, Sean Lovelace’s wondrous Fog Gorgeous Stagstaggers a mere mortal’s imagination with the sheer dervished dervish tattooed on the triumphant tympanic page, the centripetal paragraphs parachuting marginal corridors of ruin, and the Rorschaching sentences slicing through the winded wind-sheer of everything, everything going everywhere fast. This is prose that out-Jesuses poetry’s poetry. Reading it is to engage in the interval training of the syntaxes. The pant panting! The hypoxic breathlessness! The all of it that is the all of it!
—Michael Martone, author of 4 for a Quarter