I'm enjoying Stephanie Young's Telling the Future Off. the felicities are in the class of the best New York poets with surprising yet not jarring leaps. the humour doesn't romp (try David Larsen for rompishness) but lends a hand of warmth. the poems are sweet and serious without those qualities being at odds. there's also a generous sense of space, an openness that can be tender, angry, sad. very fine work.

both Blogger and Hello have given me crap whilst trying to upload pictures so now I try my friend flickr.