Laughlin (Collected Poems, LJ 11/1/93), the founding publisher of New Directions, shares his thoughts with humor and tenderness as he wades in the waters of his golden years. The speaker in many of these poems admires young women and thinks, "I could see I was entirely out of/ my depth." He realizes he is not as strong as he once was, but he can still "make old, sick words sound new." Laughlin has unlocked the soul of an old man to free the life "stored in a hidden room/ At the back of the brain./ Only the keeper of dreams/ Has the key to that hidden room." Laughlin has been a keeper of dreams throughout the 20th century. This book gives us a glance into the source of many of the dreams that have "caught fire and entered into/ The body." Highly recommended.‘Tim Gavin, Episcopal Academy, Merion, Pa. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

"As long as there are any loose words around," Laughlin says, "I'll try to make them hop, skip, and jump for you." In his old age, he has kept that promise in books full of direct, life-loving, open-hearted poems. His master is the urbane Roman poet Catullus, and Laughlin is exactly what Catullus grown old (he lived only some 30 years) ought to have been. He recalls old loves, old friends, and good times (e.g., in "The Rubble Railroad," immediately post^-World War II travels in Germany with a pal gifted at finding the best car, best digs, and best restaurants even in those dire times), and he responds with romantic gusto to new women and new opportunities to appreciate life, love, and art. May it be several years yet until we bid Laughlin ave atque vale ("hail and farewell," Catullus' last good-bye to his brother). --Ray Olson