I like the skillfull use of irony in these poems, which cuts through the serious subject matter (mental illness, environmental disaster, apocalypse). The disturbing tales make you look at conventional human behaviour in a new way, inviting you sometimes to laugh at it, sometimes to feel intesely moved by it.
Meanwhile, we sit in darkened rooms, make conversation,
watch our volunteers at work. They paint the river bed blue,
but the stones are hot, will never dry. They inflate clouds
and release them from hilltops. Also, my aunt has recycled
her second husband. Also, I buy a low energy personality,
but it is too late.
from Another Poem About the End of the World