Everything Broken Up Dances

The losses of war and distance give resonance to many of the poems in this collection from English poet Byrne (White Coins). In the good ones, of which there are many, Byrne writes with freshness of vision and especially language. His descriptive powers are striking: "the thresh of a sniper// On the mosque scaffold/ blurred and wracked/ by a prong of stars." The poems allow the reader to travel, often to the war-ravished Mideast, but even writing about the violence there, Byrne occasionally offers peace and solace, as in this line from the multisection "Postcards": "The mountain is quiet and infinite." With his journalistic eye and willingness not to ignore the brutal and ugly, Byrne brings to mind the work of Carolyn Forché: "And why—after years of mopping up/ bones and blood—do the stray dogs/ still cower, lapping at betel juice?" Not every poem works well. One in the form of a film script seems unfinished, while "Epitaphs for a New Century" fails at the beginning by attempting to be too clever, "on the count of GO run for your life./ apply elevated heels for a better view…." Yet the same poem ends with a wonderful description of coming home, "what does it mean to return to a native/ place. pennants of memory. a river."