I am a huge fan of Lee's later ecological poems, and in this much earlier volume, you can see hints and traces of his later voice--the improvisational coinages, the music--emerging. Of course they stand on their own too. The kinds of poems where you run into a turn of phrase like an iron fence, and slow down, and read it over a few times, and your brain drops into a lower key and a slower register and takes its time with the rest of them.

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