There's been a post-modern passion for playing with Shakespeare's sonnets (Stephen Ratcliffe's "[where late the:] Sweet Birds Sang," Aaron Shurin's "Involuntary Lyrics"). How we construct and deconstruct ideas of the body through this straightforward yet opaque discourse upon mortality and desire is a question that should continue to resonate through contemporary poetry. And how this does, at the same time, compound the artist's sense of anxiety regarding vocation. None so brave, then, as Paul Hoover, who assails the conventions and unconventions of a single sonnet, reimagined in all its various possibilities, yet still springing from Shakespeare's seminal language. Hoover's unerring ear transforms the 56th sonnet into as many versions of itself as it can enumerate. He has made the poem live in so many artful bodies, each the progeny of an both an old master and a new master, yet nonetheless masterful.