When this package arrived, I was into reading the poems within seconds of having opened the envelope. And I enjoyed the poetry very much as one always does when reading Edward Baranosky. The booklet has a color photo on the cover of a storm hanging over boats in a harbor – menacing to say the least. And the first three poems take the storm by words to bring it to the reader's mind. And then, gently the reader is shifted into spaces and places with "Pantoum for a Dead Princess" leading to head trips to Asia for "Ganesha" bridged by "A Foot in Both Worlds" to end, appropriately enough with "Vanishing Point". This is grounded and stabilized by the prose piece, "Kittling" which gives the fellow-traveler a glimpse of the author as no photo can do. Throughout the book are the pen and ink drawings we have come to associate with all of Baranosky's works. Always bold, yet sensitive. However, the tape laid on the tape deck, reminding me each day that I 'needed' to hear this. Yet my dislike of having haiku read to me would never overcome my compulsion to 'do right' and listen. Finally yesterday, became it was the last day before this review was to be done. So with the determined chin set of a criminal going to the electric chair, I sat down and flipped on the tape.

Surprise. Gentle sounds of the seashore. And well-done. I know how hard it is to capture that most ancient of audio-images. Just as I was confronted with my nodding off to sleep, Edward began reading the first poem as in the book. I had forgotten how soothing and melodious his voice is. Too enthralled to go across the room for the book, I simply let him spread his poetry out around me with the quivering of a peacock's display.

Though Baranosky forms his poetry into haiku, tanka or sijo, his own rhythms and internal phrasing are so strong, so well-developed, that I never had the feeling that I was hearing a certain genre. The images, the words, the melodies carried me along above form. Highest praise.

In the notes I read that N. Patricia Armstrong did the instrumental works and that the final recordings were done at NPR Studios in Mississauga, Ontario. Here I find out that those simple sounds came from antique Tibetan bells, Japanese meditation bowl, Celtic bodram drum, wind chimes, Clava sticks, rain stick, various rattles and shakers, antique music box plus recordings in various places. You get the idea – a rich assortment of ear spirits to round out and support Baranosky's voice. When the sounds reach the peak of pleasure, as with the wolf songs, Baranosky backs off and lets the reader alone with the splendor, coming back at just the right moment with another poem.

Poetry books are more than cut and folded pages. Poetry is reading and making a tape, especially when it is so artfully done as this one. Go thou and do likewise.