This unbelievably moving book amazed me. I usually don't go in for prose poems, but these are superb. The clarity here is peerless, as is the craft. Each one is like a small miracle. My favorite read of the month.
"The wind stopped for a moment at the end of autumn and twilight; a woman called across the yards to her young son, toward the blueing trees, tired faces of workers who glimpsed the moon beginning. Some things are only bright in the darkness." An ambitious, ambiguous collection of delightfully moody prose poems.