Yes, this poet is wide awake to injustice, folly, and ordinary sadness.

This sense of being at the center of a thought-scape expanding in all directions—and dimensions—is…

This is not an elegy to the life of Feiga, it is an elegy for the many possible lives Feiga could…

Injured hymns came issuing from the vicinity of Donald Revell’s previous volume, the elegiac…

As a metaphor, of course, clarity fails. This idea that the language of which poetry is made exists…