In Now Lays the Sunshine By , Andrew Hughes detunes the lyres, cranks the gain on the harmonium & pitches the amps to wail. Consider something Lyn Hyjinian once said: The starry angular varieties of recurrent word and changed idea in constellation gathero and in these dented lyrics you will witness the celebration of an electric objectivity of imaginative expression. These poems are short burst of pure music, pure play. If Catullus had lived in the age of skateboards his name would be Andy Hughes. Let’s call him a young, lyrical, New Englander who crafts the line into a bloom of self-effacing, reflective, and always funny-sad passages. These poems are indeed passages: passages into a creative life filled with promise, and passages into a forthright sympathy for the wobbly human heart. o Lisa Jarnot