The Company of Moths

Hieratic, hypnotic, at times apocalyptic, Palmer's 10th volume (his first since 2001) offers more of the serious pleasures and delvings that have won him admiration over 30 years. The four sequences here (almost all in unrhymed couplets) sometimes recall techniques of meditation; his tracings and gestures recall choreography (Palmer's other profession), too, envisioning "the dance// of the thing and its name,/ lost limb and its shadow," or chasing a lost blackbird through a seascape of dreams. Despite their mysterious feel, the poems also produce stern millennial foreboding: "Letter to a Vagrant" cautions against "new slings, new arrows,/ new weapons of mass affection," and instructs "prepare to board the burning boat." The best single lyrics combine political warning with intense nostalgia. ("Its sadness is palpable," one such poem rightly says of itself.) Though not a major departure from previous styles, these consistently absorbing works maintain Palmer's high standards and his record of attention to deep mysteries: the nature of naming, the right handling of boats, "the play as they always say// of light against shadow/ first light then shadow then the shadow-play." (June)