jekristoff's poems speak often of oblivion, but I doubt he spends much time there.  In this slender-yet-dense "26 Pieces," we get a glimpse into a life well-lived, and only wish that this was his ninth or tenth collection of poetry instead of his first.  At times nakedly personal, at others shamelessly philosophical, and often in the same piece, his poems paint pastoral landscapes, dance with the divine, and sings sweet elegies in an attempt to "write songs against the last impending amnesia".

A humble lover of language is he, as expressed in his introduction entitled "Apology" and in the first poem "Still the line forms" in which he describes himself as an "old man writing his way back home". This is the work of man who writes because he must, to makes sense of the majesty and mystery of his life, and we are fortunate to be taken along for the ride.

He doesn't merely rest in memories and musings, however, and in other poems he tackles more academic subjects, like astronomy ("SN 2006gy"), geology ("Battle Sounds (an odyssey)", ancient history ("Hypatia of Alexandria"), and female anatomy ("Endowments").  In each of the 26 pieces we hear the singular voice of a thoughtful and sensitive soul pondering the many imponderables.

Elsewhere in "Roadside" he deftly juxtaposes a modern scene in a retro diner with reminiscences from his youth in the actual 50s, until you're right there with him in that shiny leather booth.  His writing style can be poetically ornate or Midwesternly grounded, carrying us along on truncated tales of an idyllic boyhood in East Chicago, mischievous college years in Southern Indiana, and a reluctantly placid adulthood in the Minnesota wilderness.

This ruggedly elegant book would make a fine addition to any poetry collection.

Review by Eric Layer