a collection of 59 poems Percesepe's poetry seems straightforward but is
as complex as flowers, as summer shade and layers of snowfall, available
to all but folded around secrets only broken lovers or philosophers
grasp, and contained by no borrowed forms but original truths and no
meter but the throbs of a heart. He here assays breakfast making and
love making and loss and memory and time and husbands and wives and
offspring and always, always, the elegance of the line, the object plain
or sublime or both, the landscapes of sex, sorrow and high style. James
Robison Gary Percesepe drops you into an ambiguous world and pulls you
back again, still reeling. He does it so deftly, you don't even realize
you're bleeding until it's over. Heather Cox, author of California King