The nearly undisputed Empress of SoCal poetry, Laurel Ann Bogen has garnered- and deserved- the accolades of L.A.'s literati elite (whoever they are- and why don't we get invited to their parties?) without losing her grasp on the everyday world. Bogen writes with a near devastating ferocity and a spell-binding sort of grace. The breadth of her literary canvas is startling. Whether her muse is waxing political ("The War nestled dreamily like all good babies/ broken crockery and smashed in faces. Our world without end. Amen." or carving a Halloweenish portrait of a Jack O' Lantern (ending with an elegant, "What do you fear") Bogen transcends the earthbound scribbling of other writers. Her poetry is a window into a world of horrific beauty and exquisite madness. It is supple, surprising, and imminently moving. Her world is a disconcerting place- strange and wracked with pain, but instantly recognizable. It's the world outside your window.