Reviewed by Jayne E. Marek Delightful, wry, and accessible, Eric Nelson’s seventh poetry collection is grounded in day-to-day living. Family dynamics, the vicissitudes of
He wanted to be summer wind, summer mind, fruit and rind in the sun—a boy translucent like mayflies. I found his body in the
when the older kids were at school up said my mother down I replied oldest said my mother youngest flower she put forth dandelion
Open slow the squeaky screen door into the hush of a strange house the weight of dimmed light, dark drapes, corded rugs. The slow