In this first book of poems, J. D. Black salutes The King not only with the occasional electric guitar but with stranger and more delicate melodies as well, a few strummed out on the dulcimer, others twanged along the nerves. Black reveals himself as a master of difficult forms extending from rondeaux and villanelles to mischievous haiku. But it would be mistaken to see him merely as a skilled traditionalist. Amid the polish of the poems, surprises abound. Black moves from witty light verse to graceful elegies.

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