If Western art and literature have oft consigned us to our female body, Robyn Art pulls from the rack and runs. Our companion species, our errant teenage selfsack, our sometimes living tomb and sometimes aspiring extraterrestrial, the motherbody or the peculiar animal at the ecotone, the stunt double longs for us and we for it. Through a terrible-delicious sleepless malfunctioning and polluted deep abiding faith in the lyric, an inescapable evolution of form. “If you must, unfurl my sutures by the rain-besotted rose,” Art begins. From Mina Loy to Lyn Hejinian, meadow to city, bible to Tilt-A-Whirl, loft to grave, Romantic to SciFi, Robyn Art reintegrates the physical body into the poetic field, and this time it’s live. --Danielle Pafunda

Voluminous, luminous, libidinous, The Stunt Double in Winter is a match struck against the teeth and held to the strange flicker of the body. No impulse is acquitted, no hunger ignored. These poems bushwhack a love-strewn existence with all of its biology, horror, and farce. Such a task and managed with a twinkle. --Sam White

Robyn Art presents a morphing, riddled, bizarre world and how the body must come to terms with this world that contains wonder at times and strangeness and hostility at others. In sharp and vivid language that mourns another older language, Robyn shows us what it is like to navigate an existence where the man-made--"pork rinds" and a "push up bra"--are allowed to commingle with nature and confound the body. *The Stunt Double in Winter* is a startling and beautiful navigation of being, dreaming, discovery, remorse, love, and loneliness. --Jenny Boully