Lynne McMahon has a genius for making poetry of the ordinary, for transforming those things we most take for granted into aspects for intricate contemplation.
As G. E. Murray put it in The Southern Review, “Perhaps ‘rearranging molecules’ of thought and language is the best way to describe how she uses the unconscious to grab the reader’s attention.”
“McMahon’s poems counter the notion that kitsch and flashy iconography threaten the mandarin pleasures of poetry. Under her Midas touch, what is available becomes indispensable.”
— The New Yorker