“Like a tarot-reading Oblomov wallowing in his bed for forty pages, and not even doing most of the fun things that can be done in a bed, Scott knows that he ought to pull himself together—he can see the reasons for it—but he is in love with inertia. Inspiration leads to depletion. This is his curse and his cross to bear. ‘An unmade bed is an unaccounted sin,’ as he says in the opening poem, ‘Moirai Effect.’ It should be clear that this is very far from other bedroom poetries of the past, from the fuck-the-world-away boudoir lyrics of the English tradition to the grimly exhibitionistic verse of the second half of the twentieth century. As the chapbook’s title, Funerals & Thrones, suggests, Scott’s poems owe much more to the world of fantasy and theology , and to Scott’s own ideas around rituals of power.” —Erik Kennedy for Sabotage Reviews
“Like a tarot-reading Oblomov wallowing in his bed for forty pages, and not even doing most of the fun things that can be done in a bed, Scott knows that he ought to pull himself together—he can see the reasons for it—but he is in love with inertia. Inspiration leads to depletion. This is his curse and his cross to bear. ‘An unmade bed is an unaccounted sin,’ as he says in the opening poem, ‘Moirai Effect.’ It should be clear that this is very far from other bedroom poetries of the past, from the fuck-the-world-away boudoir lyrics of the English tradition to the grimly exhibitionistic verse of the second half of the twentieth century. As the chapbook’s title, Funerals & Thrones, suggests, Scott’s poems owe much more to the world of fantasy and theology , and to Scott’s own ideas around rituals of power.” —Erik Kennedy for Sabotage Reviews