"Jen Levitt can see you, reader, in this quiet hour in the dark; this poet wrote a book that makes its own light to read by. The speaker’s inner life is seductive but not flirtatious, precise but not fussy, realized but pressingly nascent, and visionary but using all the senses for its clairvoyance. Thirty-something in New York City, making a life as a teacher and poet, losing a beloved father, learning to live with absence and longing—what a soul that peeks out from behind these translucent scenes of good-bye and remembering, to keep love from slipping away the way time does. Oh the loss is endless, as is Jen Levitt’s brilliance, her empathic light which transforms that loss into longing, into love. If you know someone who deserves everything beautiful in this world, lay this book at their feet. The lovers of realness, those who really love, will treasure this treasure."
—Brenda Shaughnessy

"So Long is contrapuntal: one hand plays life, the other death. Jen Levitt is circumspect, something I associate more with artists double her age. Exquisite. The death of a father rearranges Levitt’s lines. As her father recedes, our speaker emerges. Adrienne Rich wrote, 'No one has imagined us,' electrified by her newfound gay life. Yet the challenges of being seen remain as old as Shakespeare. Wit, candor, and acceptance make up the poetic scales Levitt plays. Frank O’Hara is in her tune as she wanders around New York City seeking 'a new kind of noticing.' Such sheets of music. What joy to read. Questions mount about her father: 'I’m thinking of you now—is that enough?' So Long waves goodbye and beckons. If I go back to poems a second and third time, I’ve found a poet I cherish. That happened. Exquisiteness doubled. So long to being unseen, Jen Levitt."
—Spencer Reece