Incognitum

<p>What pleasure what an incredible joy to enter into this stunning museum this rich and mesmerizing collection. Marrin's first book is a requiem a gorgeous and strange diorama of beauty and sorrow. A true cabinet of curiosities these poems usher in a seemingly endless list of what's been lost: Marrin along with her parade of ghosts of dead counters explorers and collectors chronicles our demise. 'Come into my diorama' Marrin whispers 'Everything's life size. / Everything's as it should be in the wild.' <em>Incognitum</em> is an extended fever an archive a getting-it-all-down-before the world is gone. -Cynthia Cruz</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><em style=background-color: initial>Incognitum</em> inhabits several worlds at once-from the subterranean past to the surface of our present condition-and affirms with a dexterous line poetry's ability to synthesize a limitless breadth of information. I'm fascinated by how disparate elements appear in tandem throughout <em>Incognitum</em> suspended in place by the sound-waves of Aubrie Marrin's charged-up language. -Joseph Massey</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>A stratigraphic catalog of catastrophe <em style=background-color: initial>Incognitum</em> takes refuge in a 19th-century naturalist's clinical relationship to nature where order and classification palliate our global systemic approach to the taking out of nature all together. The violence of taxidermy bone-dusting the pinning of wings begins to feel like the tenderest love as things are caught and held in a seeming sort of life while 'the great pupa / of loss // stirs in its jar.' Fossils and fresh asphalt accrue in Marrin's racked notebook that tries to create a scale for large-scale destruction... -Kate Colby</p><p><br></p>