In Barry Schwabsky's fourth book of poetry, "Feelings Of And", the waning sun gets its claws into you, darkness undresses in darkness, and space folds itself around you. In the tradition of Pierre Reverdy, his poetry recombined shards from a multitude of overheard, misheard or never -before-heard utterances into constructions that are as firm a strong monuments and as passionate and iconic as the laments of troubadours. Like Jack Spicer, he tunes into frequencies that invade our everyday perceptions from elsewhere. The only rule he allows himself: Accept each poem as if it is the last. As Richard Hell observes, "The poems seem to yield to poetry rather than trying to snare .org create it -poetry inundates and the reader is like a component drifting through, turned around among the refreshed and refreshing words and phrases, thoughts and images; luxe, calm and voluptuous in "Feelings Of And".