In her new collection, renowned publisher and poet Rebecca Wolff voyages in the myopia of American consumer consciousness-erotic regard, spiritual FOMO, gentrification, branding-without destination.

Labyrinthine in their paradoxical musings and incisive in their witty recriminations, these poems grapple with the hubris and dysmorphia of the soul. Wolff is a poet that is unafraid to be a querent, not only of sages ("I only hang out with people / who are psychic / anything else is a / waste of precious / continuity") but of language itself ("How else is one to know how to proceed / How is one to make a motion against- / electric word life") InSlight Return, the journey is infinite and elusive-aspiring in the best way toward a point of diminishing returns and withholding any promise of a comfortable landing.