'A poet of vast and miniature journeys'

Reading [Andre Bagoo] is to fall backwards into the open arms of a mystery, your mouth hibiscus full and your pulse ready. That is to say: you don't need to trust the destinations of Andre Bagoo's poems before you go there. Go, in terror and elation. Go with an open heart and an unstamped passport, a purse full of vitamins and bois cano leaves. Go without any expectation that you can paint the landscapes of Bagoo's poems in colour by numbers formulae, but the knowledge that these trees, this cow, this hinterland will never look the same, moo in orthodoxy, or whisper complacently once Andre's pen has journeyed here.

A poet of vast and miniature journeys, Bagoo asks us in each new poem to reconfigure the heartspace, turn it inward for courage, outward for grace, kaleidoventricularly for growth. I cannot say enough about how much I look forward to growing alongside these poems my entire lifespan long.