Nature, culture, and the imagination are hopelessly entangled, to use a key word for Carlos Cociña, in gardens. In his elegant, devastating sequence Gardens, this entanglement is considered, enacted, displayed, mined—but never disentangled; Cociña knows it is far too late for that. I loved whiling in these serpentine lines, where the concrete and abstract flow into and out of each other, “toward stadiums of the private,” suspended between the imagined and the all-too real.—Donna Stonecipher