Tasker Street

How to bridge the gap between his reader's experiences and his own is the question Halliday poses, but fails to answer, in this collection. A mean-spirited rejection of another poet's confessional piece suggests the pointlessness of such literary efforts. ``Put that poem back in your fat little filing cabinet. / And then what? Then what? Then try to be strong: / like . . . a tree; / a tree's nobility is poemless.'' Halliday's ( Little Star ) self-consciousness about the poetic act, which he nevertheless commits, limits the appeal of his work. In one piece, a paddler in an odorous, yellow-green swamp is prompted to affirm that life ``is not about books.'' But the poem fails to convey any sense of why the swamp is a compelling setting for this admission. Halliday is rarely emotionally engaged with his subjects. One long poem mocks Yuppiedom with a cleverness that never delves beneath the surface. ``God, you should see Wendy's pottery / . . . some of her glazes / are really original (it's not just me who says so).'' Other satirical poems that render the voices of people seeking release from life's unpleasant realities reveal none of their Middle American subjects' complexities. (June)