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Sara’s poems are less like reading and more like being handed a stack of photographs of people you’d almost forgotten. The images are beautiful, heartbreaking and crystal clear, the edges yellowed with nostalgia. Magic. Amanda Gowin, author of Radium Girls (Thunderdome Press, 2014) *** In Somehow We Remain in the Aftermath, Sara Krueger invites us into a world of strangeness. Above the surface, humans become metal / from toes to tummy to tongue, to survive. Below the surface, the world looks just as bizarre, with beings like scattered husks / found after a hard harvest burrowing to safety as the sweet, sweet blue / kept on its way to becoming Venus. And while the world might seem alien, it isn’t; there’s much to recognize here, perhaps most poignant, the beauty in the ugliness, the optimism in the apocalypse, the spark of hope within us all in the next generation–the new one with tiny fists that find purchase in this weakened world. Read this book to experience what it means to be human, albeit with skin so scaly thick / rolling mud balls like a little dung beetle. Katie Hoerth, Poetry Editor of Devilfish Review and author of Goddess Wears Cowboy Boots (Lamar University Press, 2014) *** Sara Krueger is a story teller Spinning yarns / and tall tales too / with digital banjo picking / and firelight / tumbling from our barrel chests. Somehow We Remain in the Aftermath is an enchanting and vibrant new collection-a modern Pandora that offers wry acumen and cleverness. Leah Maines, Publisher, Finishing Line Press
