For the books.
Fiddling at language with the effervescent grace of an Irish raconteur, two-time NEA Fellow Sean Brendan-Brown elevates the bitterness of post-Dream dead-enders from self-indulgent solipsism to sympathetic epiphany. Dusty icons of a rusted-out American West — Colts and Rugers, cowboys and native dancers, hookers and soldiers and Christ in passionate embrace with life — are sparingly lit by the long-shadowed burn of apocalyptic sunsets and the slow rhythmic glow of hand-rolled cigarettes.