Luscious psalms to divine recklessness, the poems in PULSE wear their formal brilliance lightly, leaping and pirouetting with raw, gritty grace and a clear-eyed love of our human brokenness, from which they never flinch. A marvel.”

Joy Castro, author of "One Brilliant Flame"

“Nazos has written for the world a seismic, incandescent tribute to life. It is devotional with a ferocious tenderness. Here is a poet who can and has resurrected ghosts in our veins—the parents destined to drown in quiet despair, and the lovers who linger like bruises. This collection doesn’t flinch from darkness or the suffocating weight of grief. Yet Nazos transforms pain into a strange, stubborn grace. From the cliffs of Delphi to the cornfields of Nebraska, she maps a world where history bleeds into the present. Her voice is both elegy and rebellion, hymn and rhyme. To read PULSE is to touch the ‘dirty human sweetness’ of existence itself: flawed, forgiving, and furiously alive.”

Saddiq Dzukogi, author of "Your Crib, My Qibla"

“Sometimes poetry trills, tramples, thrupples backward into the time when we didn’t know who we were. These poems are like that. When the vine breathing above our head doesn’t mean to strangle us, and the man looming over us doesn’t doom us to strangulation either, but all the while, our voicebox becomes our own: PULSE refuses to sorrow deep and instead blooms and plunges into wonder up where the air grows thin. Up here, we hear a woman singing.”

Kate Gale, PhD, author of "Under a Neon Sun"

“In PULSE, Nazos builds a lyric terrain where myth kisses motel neon, and every love song is underscored by rupture. Nazos moves effortlessly between forms—not as ornament but as necessity, language singing and stinging at once. . . . Like a disco ball above a war zone, PULSE pulses with why poetry matters, with grit and glitter. These poems remember what it’s like to be wild and breakable, to be held and to vanish, to run toward danger just to feel the wind. They don’t flinch—from longing, from the shattered, from desire, from the messy afterglow of all of it, the ‘gold in the olive oil.’”

David Koehn, author of "Sur"