The Grind

“It was the poem, ‘Rivers,’ that got me thinking about Michael Cirelli’s gifted flow. ‘I’m floating down the Pawtuxet River/ in a basket made of plastic/ Straws, clear as our front windows.’ The Grind is anchored and flooded by the tributaries of place; the ebb and flow of a family’s lifework. Flow is the word for this book’s heart and dexterity; flow is the word for this book’s straight-forward, straight up grace.” –Terrance Hayes