The first word in this new collection by Phil Hall is "verb" and the last word is "blurtip." Between these, many nouns cry out their faith within a hookless framework�that sings in chorus while undermining such standard forms & tropes as "the memoir," "genealogy" and "the shepherd's calendar." With a rural pen, these poems talk frogs, carrots, local noises, partial words, remnants, dirt roads, deep breath & hope:

my laboratory the moment
is�accordion-shaped -- cluttered -- sopping

& not eternal