"Stephanie Strickland is one of contemporary poetry's polymaths: her poetry displays an astonishing command of scientific knowledge and unusual verbal virtuosity. The piece de resistance in Zone : Zero is the interactive generative Flash poem slippingglimpse, in which text and video, made by using motion capture coding, combine so as to create a genuinely new and distinctive eco-poetry. Readers/viewers will find themselves totally mesmerized."
— Marjorie Perloff
"... mystic immersion / enabled / smite embedding / enabled," writes Stephanie Strickland as she launches us into the mysteries of her interior castle, her Zone : Zero. With her extraordinary ear, her crackerjack sense of timing, her genius for structure and her exquisitely dry wit (as in the delicious vaudeville routines of her "Ballad of Sand and Harry Soot"), Strickland can lead us down these high stone stairs, through these neurodigital pathways and never lose us, even into her castle keep. And when we find ourselves there — what fierce playfulness awaits us, and what startling pleasures, pleasures indivisible from the victories they embody: "And Colette took up this / bread, which was black, / and spat back at Lord Death / the red / pomegranate drops."
— Rachel Loden
"Stephanie Strickland is one of the few writers I know who can tease out a poem on the page with a truly lusory — game-playing — attitude, in a manner not unlike the Metaphysical Poets of yore, with conceit, sound and syntax bounding along, each word and line not just partaking in the improvisatory moment, but setting the stage for the next twist — the system of each poem's writing revered, teased, challenged and/or discarded in always surprising fashion. She is an elegant master of metrics and has an uncanny sense for contemporary metaphor coupled with an eye for concrete detail, and that this whole melange survives in digital realms — where the whims of user interaction and the blunt force of algorithm can wreak havoc on lyrical integrity — is all the more remarkable."
— Brian Kim Stefans