“Erin Robinsong’s Wet Dream is an erotic epistemology of humors, the vital fluids linking bodies to cosmos. What does liquidity know? Nerves, skies, rivers, spit, dreams and language are essentially passionate, and here become the shimmering components of a poethics that joins ecology with love with the grammar of song. Here, time is a heretical school that teaches us how not to vanish. Yes, in spite of the current political economy, Robinsong is mystic: it’s her way to think flourishing. I am grateful to her for these spiralling records of survival.”–Lisa Robertson, author of The Baudelaire Fractal

“Wet Dream lures you to dissolution, even as you’re already keeling from falling apart: no solidity will save you now. On offer instead is brain lube for an insurgent language–creaturely poems that remake your body and relation to the world. I want to smear them all over.”–Astrida Neimanis, author of Bodies of Water: Posthuman Feminist Phenomenology

“Wet Dream is a potent enquiry into the living world and its many minds. Thought forms are composed and decomposed. Elegy, prayer, hypothesis, invitation, and spell are stirred into beautiful relation. I will read these poems again and again.”–Merlin Sheldrake, author of Entangled Life

“In this poetry the dreamy melt of the mindbody is all porosity and the subject itself, here investigating itself, is defined by its porous seeping out beyond its lyric skin and that outside seeping in as the ‘skin is continuous’–‘there’s no / Seal’ and ‘water drinks me, water thinks / Me’ and who are we but briefly conscious nodes in this fluid process? Amongst the vagaries of what we have called ecopoetry, I want to reach out from the dissolving liquid commons to hold this book up as exhibit A–beautiful, trenchant, urgent, deeply thought and felt, wide hot wet generous and wild. There is instruction here too: ‘Grow whet & planetary,’ ‘work for the boss of beauty,’ who is the boss of this poet I urge you to read.”–Stephen Collis, author of A History of the Theories of Rain