This book is not a 'collection' of 'poems', or not quite. Something odd is going on: things repeat, vary, develop, disappear to reappear skewed and the book ends, then doesn't. And the 'poems' involve events in literature, poetry we all know, and some we don't, and the writing brings them in a dance across time into the mind along with the life of the moment. Moments in time are not frozen, things that happen are not selected, highlighted and described. They just happen. Fluid energy is taken on for what it is, and that's the way things are.