Anna McClellan

With a voice that ripples both with qualities of the fatally bored and the endlessly yearning, McClellan’s odd lyrical perspective works just as well: always feeling it’s obsessed with the textures and the deficiencies of the biological world—feet, blood, breath. When it looks outward, it knows how vast the universe can be, but makes no effort to contextualize it. Fear, death and consciousness loom large, but they are mostly shapeless.