Danielle Vogel’s newest collection creates a latticework for repair—the repairing of past trauma, the calling-into-presence of a dissociated self—but does so while keeping the material of this net of thinking in a fragmented, diaphanous state glowing in the space between the poem and essay. Across three sections of “displacements,” “miniatures,” and “volume,” Vogel initiates readers into the séance of the book. In The Way a Line Hallucinates its Own Linearity, accord is always a verb, always kinetic, alchemical, and alive. To consent to walk through these spaces is to give up that part of you that wishes to remain anonymous and un-entrained.