Poetry. ".this world has shrunk to something approximating the backyard with the neighbor's tree blocking the sun, the kids screaming, the barbecue rusted out, the dog barking in manic hysteria, and oneself plus beloved just sitting there, trying to keep even with that `outside' which `leans in' on us, as Charles Olson said, forever. But `forever' is also gone, lost back there in the wake. Or it has become simply a qualification of what one will never oneself know, just as another one of the `ten thousand and one things' which no longer seem to be around. So it's in that theoretic `here' these determinedly immaculate poems set to work-to particularize, to locate, almost to feel by literal hand the set and texture of the box into which we have driven our apparent lives"-from the introduction by Robert Creely.