As plain-talking and accessible as a Billy Collins book but as mysterious as a manuscript of ancient prayers or the recorded dreams of saints, Noah Falck's Exclusions is the kind of book you want to force all your friends to read. There are only a few books of poetry that I love so much -- and that I so feel *deserve* to be loved, *will* be loved by everyone -- that I regularly drop-ship them to friends without warning. I have done this with Exclusions.
This book is full of bone-deep truths about the feeling-tone of contemporary life. War, small talk, happy hour, marriage, playgrounds, politics -- there's much here that the contemporary reader will recognize and see anew. Yet Falck speaks *from* the contemporary moment without speaking directly *of* it -- which gives the book a timelessness, serene and grand and wise.
Each poem works to create a world without the object, person, or idea named in its title. But there's a trickery here -- as so many now have noted, the exclusion always has a way of shaping the poem-world, even though it leaves no discernable trace. What is purportedly excluded -- war, politics, cancer, happy hours -- becomes, upon the reader's inverted contemplation, vaster than we ever imagined. In reading these poems you can switch your focus endlessly between the words on the page and the lacuna that the title suggests -- and with each adjustment see or hear something new. In this way each poem is a bottomless nesting doll of presences inside absences inside presences.
And if you aren't in the mood for mystery, meditation, a thunderclap, a sequence of koans, you can read this book simply and straightforwardly for the beauty and clarity of its language.
Get this book. Enjoy reading it, enjoying knowing it, and enjoy sharing in it with a steadily growing community of admirers.