In the tradition of Pablo Neruda, Robert Bly and James Wright, Anthony Piccione writes rich, imagistic poems that jar the reader with their brilliant simplicity. Piccione is less concerned with public imagery and more with the human psyche, with how the unconscious can surface and lead us to discoveries in language that sustain us. Many of the poems find passage through the woods and fields surrounding the author's cabin in rural Prattsburgh, New York, near Keuka Lake. The book's lead poem begins, "It's time to start feeling our way again. We / can call each thing its own sweet secret desire."