Amazon.com Review
Many writers expound upon childhood events, but Timothy Houghton recreates the minutiae of particular moments in his poems about childhood: the rat skeleton in the cellar, the instant that an adult's grief is recognized, the thrill of besting a brother playing "pretend." Other sections of his book show the same attention to detail that envelop the more universal experience. In "Perseid" he begins, "Moods don't matter. We plug them into the arcs, // the flaring roads / where impersonal riders / are bearing our flags tonight."
Houghton's poetry is graceful with the line and line break, allowing the images to collect in pools of thought rather than oceans of information, usually organized into couplets. For example, in "After Bad Dreams" the writer frames each detail in its own line: "Joined on his chest, / his hands are structured for calm // as he lies in bed / waiting for the algal haze." Accessible and skillful, Houghton's poetry makes an inspiring companion.
