The title of Elaine Terranova's eighth collection implies a cleanse, a refresh, not unlike the kind a body undertakes in sleep. Rinse charts inner landscapes in poems that read like memories surfaced in reflection and refracted through the lens of dreams. As the poet enters sleep's " dark passage" a synesthetic language emerges, in which sounds hold colors, and colors reflect sensations. " Clashing sounds splinter the air, a red bird's worth...
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Poetry