These short stabs to the heart, tell one woman’s journey to the other side, the next stop, the last stop. Yes, the voyage is Byronic, and its psychopomp is Dylan, but the true haunting voice is Emily Dickinson in all her mad visionary language and anguish. Yet Cory is a 21st century woman, who roams the globe, reads everything, writes the blues. Shakespeare’s whispering in her ear, as she describes her grief, her loss. She says, I can’t describe it. The pressure of want / ing to be. And when she says, I’m Ann Boleyn, you believe her. This is poetry that takes the top off your head.