I don't know if I <i>like</i> these short little poems, exactly, but I find them <i>interesting</i>, which is just as important. Reliably, I enjoy the first 80% or so of each poem, because the images are striking and quirky and sensual, and then the final lines hare off in another direction entirely, one that seems barely related, and I'm left an odd mixture of baffled and deflated. They're weirdly compelling, though, and I'm left wanting to go read more by the author to see if she can produce, in another book, the same strange effect.