Milk was a particularly interesting contemporary suite of poems. The subject of feminine [chthonic] spirituality bore gory images of blood, milk, vagina, sex, etc.; an interesting take of the ‘wild woman’. (La Loba, Estes 1992) Although, how does one talk about a particular collection based in chaos when there’s no grip of linguistic sanity to understand this particular notion of chaos? Sharon Olds or Anne Sexton have this particular calculation towards describing the grotesque — which, I felt, was lacking in Dorothea Lasky’s work. I’d like to think of Milk as a conversation between a woman performing as a witch and her audience. It is shamefully and intentionally feminist. I was entertained, nonetheless. I very much enjoyed the books design as well as the experience of reading it.