Mark DeCarteret’s poems wear their elegant disillusionment lightly, as if they knew that only by losing our projections do we see “The same ad for dawn again. How I’ve mastered/ its theme song but not the game show that follows.” These lovingly made poems, charged with wit and uncanny insights into our quotidian, linger on all that’s the sea, deer, the self. “Anything not solid is at a loss” until the poet endows it with language. Giving the lie to the book’s title are the signs of vocation everywhere evident in these savvy and unsparing pages. — Askold Melnyczuk, founder of AGNI