Or, in a lovely trope, seeing carrots from below, ‘underground, bright . . . torches.’ Or primroses ‘cheerful / as crayons.’ The world—shot through with delights, shadowed by death, freighted with its vicissitudes—undergoes transformations through the poet’s language and perception. The result is a resolute, unqualified joy in being.” —Frank X. Gaspar, author of Night of a Thousand Blossoms