One thing is certain — the poems of Ghosts Still Walking may slow down slightly in pace, but they never lessen their bite.
Do Nguyen Mai’s debut collection stuns with stabbing diction and fluid conversation. There is a softness to her sounds, but a violence to her verbs. A sense of anxious rushing fills each piece not because of its pacing, but because of the extremes with which Do paints life, love, and being. It is all or nothing, every last drop in space.