Description

The poems from this fine collection remind us that "nature enables and culture denies". They deal with professions and trades lost to most contemporary humans. The last blacksmith of the village joins the casket maker, the milkman, the traveling salesman, the TV repair man, the elevator operator, the mill worker, the night soil man, and the home guard all of whom teach us to attend to our own times, and to how we are shaped and formed by the experiences we have in childhood and how as those experiences vanish into the mist our past becomes, in the words of the prize winning title poem:

... a voice

you can't hear

though it's clear that the voice is your own

In the closing words of his introduction Lee writes:

... well as for me, I was born taking my first breath in the eternal and ever-present peril of total annihilation from thermo-nuclear war. According to my mother my first words were "Howdy Doody" and my final words, at least for now, "I don't know what that means ..."

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John B. Lee is a master of metaphor and powerful surges of feeling. It's always a pleasure to see a Lee poem I haven't encountered before. He is the premier Canadian poet of his generation.

Don Gutteridge, poet and novelist

John B. Lee is the greatest living poet in English. He sows everyday experiences with a timeless gravity and awe.

George Whipple

If you ever doubt the value of daily writing, just read this master craftsman of finding and maintaining his own voice. John B. Lee's lines flow smoothly from one fresh new metaphor to the next.

Bernice Lever