Clever, gorgeous, as historical as they are contemporary. So you have to work a little and read slowly with this volume but what poetry doesn't demand that? Once I figured out Warren's flow and was able to sync up with her voice (second reading) I was available for lines like these:

"In those pictures you took/the thigh carves a perfect arc against the thicket at the mouth of the cave/and flesh pleats illegibly If it's a god"

One of the things I appreciate most about Rosanna Warren is her ability to choose the perfect word: scumble, jocund, cotillion, vernissage... I could go on. Each one of these poems contain a perfect little picture of brilliance and song.