Anne Nygård Too Much Tongue by Adrienne Marie Barrios and Leigh Chadwick, Autofocus, 2022 Reviewed by Scott Neuffer I’ve never read anything like Too Much Tongue, a collaborative series of untitled prose poems by trampset contributors Adrienne Marie Barrios and Leigh Chadwick. Reading it is like finding a nest in your refrigerator, slapping yourself to wake up, then noticing how each wispy thread of the nest is throbbing, changing color. A feeling of magic emerges, concurrent

by Leigh Chadwick Brett Jordan I like to grow tomatoes, so I go into the backyard & plant a bottle of ketchup. That night I dream I grow gills & wade into the Atlantic & then I am swimming & swimming & swimming until I come across an octopus. I ask the octopus, If you lost one of your hearts, would you be happier? The octopus doesn’t answer because it’s an octopus. When I wake up, I check on the ketchup bottle I planted in the backyard. I run my hand over the soil. I’m gettin

by Leigh Chadwick and Adrienne Marie Barrios Jesse Bowser “Sometimes, I Think I Can See Right Through Myself” Leigh Chadwick has a spine and she thinks that’s weird. Leigh Chadwick has a spleen and she thinks that’s weird, too. Leigh Chadwick has an orgasm and she thinks that’s good. Across the street and six states north, Adrienne Barrios stares at a wall. The wall is beige. Or maybe eggshell. She should be able to tell, but she can’t—she’s too focused on the Ritalin she too