“L. S. Klatt’s new collection creates a taxonomy of mystery, magic, surprise. Like a cloud, it floats through the reader’s mind with playful shapeliness—but like ink, it leaves a darker, and lasting, impression.”—Robert N. Casper, publisher, jubilat
In his Iowa Poetry Prize winner, Cloud of Ink, L.S. Klatt offers a sharp eye and precise, resonant lines: gutting an octopus, he’s soaked in ink and “[wears] it like opera gloves in the moonlight.” Then there’s this sharp observation: “Emerson revised:/ wise moments are fire-/flies that scar the countenance ever.” —Library Journal