Poetry. It would be folly to praise this book and folly not to. Nada Gordon is on her way to inventing a new type of poetry in which Pre-Raphaelitism meets Zeppo Marx while doing the hokey pokey to a fox trot beat. Wit and lyric exuberance are a means to an end that refuses to name itself. Trips, trespass, and trepidation rule this universe of hopeful play and endearing insouciance. The world grows dark but here are songs to keep us from losing our lights–Charles Bernstein.