But then, from way off, with cranking
comes my night, and when it arrives
I go to it like a callboy to a c-note.
"Jeff Clark's poems . . . marry the stoned reveries of our postmodern era with the symbolist bliss of a previous one . . . In meticulously crafted verse and prose poems, The Little Door Slides Back offers the reader glimpses of a shadow world, seen by a visionary who has a clear strategy for depicting them." --*Ruth Andrews, Rain Taxi
"A 120-page spell . . . This is a beautiful work whose accuracy edges on the uncanny. Within, among, and around it all is presence, an almost hallucinogenic immediacy in which everything is seen and is in turn seeing." --Cole Swenson, American Letters & Commentary
"Clark integrates fin-de-siècle richness, hallucinatory vision, and a gothicism extracted from the bleak cul-de-sacs of postmodern life . . . constructing a flaneur who is both terrified and bemused by the world he enters as 'the little door slides back.'"--John Yau, Boston Review