I often leave writing these intros to the last minute, much to the consternation of the other editors on the TOA team. I get email after email reminding me, chiding me even, but there’s something that won’t let me write until the day before we go live. I realized today that this is an unfortunate practice. I’d read Eryn Green’s work before and knew there was much to go through, but how much I wasn’t quite sure until I sat down with it today. I knew that this was a poet who does his work, unlike, say, myself. And as I reread the first poem of Green’s packet, its title “Dear Beings, I Can Feel Your Hands,” I decided of course that I’d write about aliens. Surely this is a poem about aliens. Aliens holding hands.