A wonderful book of probably untranslatable poems. That much said, enough of it comes through thanks to Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto. This is where the title of my first book, Ants Dissovle in Moonight, comes from...one of the little masterpieces in here. This is a beautiful book to read in winter. Read this book and Whalen's Winter book right now for maximum seasonal synchronicity....nature's current heartlessness complements these two books perfectly. Here are just a few lines to pique your mental palate..."The sea was at the little girl's beck and call..." Or "Because there's no space / the airplane doesn't move an inch." And here on a monk burning himself to death: "Globes, one after another, rolled out, / The delighted sparrows flew round like fire balls." Zem poems like these really do leave afterimages (and are themselves such).