Bad Things

No one can imagine how bad things must be. They sprout in the dark, damp folds of my mind. They grow there— a forest of tiny umbrellas. They flourish— a crown of terrible heads. Bad Things, the new collection by Louise Wallace – poet, not celebrity housewife – is about the different ways in which we survive. Political and personal, the collection navigates celebrity encounters, women and work, the weight of expectation, and the pasts we try to escape and the people we try to hold on to. These poems are dreamlike, confronting, funny, and sometimes unashamedly weird.