Apocryphal Genesis comes as a reminder of how deeply personal an impersonal world can often feel. The failed promises of the previous centuries are mere preamble to the predicaments of the current one. Humanity's contentment to entertain the illusion of control over the world around us is also the source of our collective discontent. In Mossotti's poems, dark humor underpins every turn. His wit cuts through the bang and blab of what passes for polite discourse, and his visions are jarring and delightful in equal measure. His poems cinematically zoom from the exceedingly distant vantages of " telescopes scraping deeper into the womb / of the universe" to the microscopic " space between the whirl of electrons." While the ghost of Apollinaire guides the reader through these haunting poems, it's the poet himself who's on display more often than not (like a moth pinned inside a glass case), naked and unadorned. Apocryphal Genesis is a book that's mature enough to be unimpressed with the trappings of maturity. It's the first glance the poet's after, subtle movement of stirrings under the leaf litter, and page after page, Mossotti transforms the cosmically divine into something indelible.