Music in Bruce Berger's poetry is more than subject matter, more than cadence; it is a metaphor for the examined life. A man's transformations are measured by the concerts he has witnessed. The depth of a woman's life is revealed by an unfinished painting that her son attempts to complete. A composer is gauged by his silences. Syncopating his measures, using poetic forms for their liberating sense of play, Berger makes music of the lives of a worker on a computerized assembly line, the developer of quark theory, and a father whose single remaining pleasure is crossword puzzles. Turning wordplay on such unpoetic subjects as practice rooms, embryo transplants, and money, Berger springs secrets from our uninspected commonplaces.