In this brilliant and unusual 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 high polish of the poems rough surprises abound. The menacing redneck Len surfaces in several `vignettes', his beery but robust visage scarcely contained by the strict sonnets through which he elbows. In these sly poems, Len, resplendent in his white Cadillac or cursing the `sumbitch stepdaddy' of his squeeze, contrasts sharply with the sad diminished figure of Elvis, moping in a Quebec `Gas-Bar de la Nuit'. Black moves expertly from witty light verse to elegies as graceful as they are moving. In `Last Train Out' the sense of loss of a Holocaust...

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