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
I watch over you like the fat-faced moon who winks the window when you buckle in the eddies of dreams. You breathe underwater, surface
My father doesn’t like two-laned roads, the cars always coming at you. He prefers the highway’s straight lanes, newscasters shouting on the radio, You
There were always too many people in your crowd, and the shouting never stopped, especially after dark, in your unlined parking lot. There was