Bradley Harrison says that he “firmly believe[s] in a healthy balance of reverence and irreverence both in art and life.” The former is probably why he decided to brilliantly beat the bejeesus out of his own poetry in this amazing series of erasures. The latter is probably why I enjoy watching the process, his poetry continuously stripped down and torn into tinier and tinier kernels of lyrical truth. Over the course of these four poems, everything adorned and fabulous and unapologetically more about the opening prose piece is chiseled away, until Harrison’s readers (or, at least this reader) feels like the victim of a Zen drive-by. Everything was taken away, sure. But lose all those fancy word possessions, and we’re left with a deeper, more terribly lovely story.