“The poems in Grant Clauser’s Reckless Constellations break and enter a past peopled by a cast of restless adolescents who fight, fuck, set fires and chug bottles of rotgut wine in their race away from innocence. But, as he writes in ‘Going Back,’ ‘It’s not the memory you find . . . but the loss of this.’ Yet from the wreckage of the past and its many losses, he excavates meaning and ultimately the sort of enlightenment that comes to those who understand the ‘farthest stars / can only be seen / on the darkest nights.’ Fasten your seatbelt, people: This is one wild, beautiful ride of a book.”
—Sarah Freligh, author of Sad Math
