Author: Jen Tynes Publisher: Black Radish Books (2016) Deftly flipping the quotidian inside out and on its head, Jen Tynes’ Hunter Monies leaves one wondering which rabbit/wormhole she, and we with her, have fallen through. Her fissured narratives relentlessly embrace the fractured, composite texture of experience and memory, unstitching the certainties by which we navigate our lives, provoking the ‘queer’ pediment just underneath: “a blue insulator / come to me like a bird.” Hunter Monies scissors open syntax, stitches idioms, spells trouble. Jen Tyne’s images soar across one another, droll grotesques by which to see our way through. Go on “out in the lush” with her, “all the men draped // in pink sateen,” wearing this “dream crown, a crown made of everything.”
