Beginning where he left off in crawlspace with “the little start I’m given, giving, that May be,” John Pass’s new poems articulate further entanglements with stasis, purpose and hope. He struggles as we all do under the weight of a world imperilled by climate change and environmental degradation. And the poems, characteristically alive with attuned observation and emotional honesty, glimpse unsettling limitations to our consciousness and conscience. This is particularly so regarding animals in...
