“The author of but one other book of poetry, Temper (2009), Bachmann has already established herself as a powerful voice in contemporary poetics, one who writes like 'a sibyl burning the leaves and smelling the smoke,' as poet Robert Hass has described her. While Temper addresses the unsolved murder of her sister, her second collection takes war as its central theme as she goes inside the heads of soldiers suffering from PTSD, explores unrestrained governmental surveillance, and mines traumatic memories. Bachmann crafts images of arresting serenity ('No snow on the road, only falling'), disconcerting severity ('Fingers / in the mouth make mud / into a poultice to warm / the dead'), and haunting intimacy ('Unknown soldier, you hardly say you love me but you love me like ice / the orchid takes slowly in its turning toward light'). With deeply resonant lyrics, strange grace, and unorthodox arrangement, Bachmann is in good company among poets such as Charlotte Boulay (Foxes on a Trampoline, 2014), Dana Goodyear (The Oracle of Hollywood Boulevard, 2013), and D.A. Powell (Useless Landscape, 2012).”
—Booklist
 

“Fiercely distilled and haunted by the cruelties of war, Do Not Rise is compressed, imperative, disquieting, and compassionate.”
—Edward Hirsch

“The collection’s conceptual center—and its most insistent word—is “open.” . . . The resulting gaps open the poem to a meaningful range of pauses, hesitations, delays, sonic mutations, reconsiderations. . . . There is so much seeing in its listening.”
—Elizabeth Willis