Poetry. "The place he writes from, of void/non-void overlap, is a pure arena for the imagination to play in; and Clark is likewise pure: austere, bleak, exalted too...shimmering as ever."—Al
"Pretty much exactly like Tom Thumb's Blues, Mr. Clark goes on as ever letting his sensibility seep like rain through all the great American vernacular sites---film noir, baseball, the shore, dreams-
