In the lurid and ash-bound dreamscapes of Ian Felices The Moon Over Edgar, sleep conjures the dangerous and darling vertex of surprise. These linked sonnets chart the uncanny pursuits of an insurance salesman named Edgar, inviting us into realms of the strange-fairy tales, prophecies, premonitions-with a powerful sense of beauty and candor, ultimately delivering a fantastic and frightening world of infinite possibility. By the books end, we find ourselves in Edgars shoes, asking: Well-dressed skeletons, spinning carelessly, / Transport me to that happy place.