three and a half stars. As in any collection of poems, some poems will appeal more than others. There are lines I found just pulled me up short, like the end of Self Portrait with Beliefs, 19 October 1997, which said But tonight I’m alive, trying to write, trying to get truth to dance with me across several blank pages. Or this stanza in New York Scenes Time is just rain that we try to cup in our hands. There are many such great examples I could have plucked out as superb images and clear writing. Some poems I particularly liked were: Some Beliefs of Mine, Shipwreck, and The Widow. Others like The Stuttering Boy and War is an Old Story present graphic pictures of cruelty and inhumanity. Overall, I enjoyed this book of poetry and am looking forward to reading Peter Bakowski’s latest book of poems now.