I wrestled this morning with whether it was important to mention that Oliver de la Paz’s son was recently diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder. I finally found it necessary as the environments we are introduced to in "Labyrinth 58-62," a series of filmic prose poems, interrogate this son’s world. We are introduced to a space that is at once terrifying and beautiful. It is a place of touch. Where light becomes sound becomes music. Things swell. The boy in his labyrinth creates his own Minotaur and we are overwhelmed by sense and possibility. In these prose meditations, de la Paz discovers a series of stunning truths. Single sentences pop with startling clarity as we move from drastically differing spaces through loose connections as if trapped in a dream. We know however that this is a space we can control. As readers, we can enter and leave it any time we wish without the aid of Ariadne’s skein of thread. The boy is not so lucky. And this is our motive for entering "Labyrinth:" to witness how another consciousness experiences the world.