What pleasure, what an incredible joy, to enter into this stunning museum, this rich and mesmerizing collection. Marrin’s first book is a requiem, a gorgeous and strange diorama of beauty and sorrow. A true cabinet of curiosities, these poems usher in a seemingly endless list of what’s been lost: Marrin, along with her parade of ghosts of dead counters, explorers, and collectors, chronicles our demise. ‘Come into my diorama,’ Marrin whispers, ‘Everything’s life size. / Everything’s as it should be in the wild.’ Incognitum is an extended fever, an archive, a getting-it-all-down-before the world is gone. -Cynthia Cruz