Christine Hamm’s Echo Park takes you by the hand and leads you into a vast subterranean passion play that moves through houses and theaters and parks and alleys all the while smiling all the while promising that the over-ripe orange you smell will recede and your hair will stop burning and you can find your way out of the root cellar even though the light is busted and the door is bolted. These poems are a delicious dreamy basket of puppies with a dank surprise underneath—not the pony every little girl longs for but a portal into a whole wide weirdly and care(fully) imagined world. —Rebecca Loudon, author of Cadaver Dogs