I have loved the poetry of Morton Marcus since his 1972 book, Santa Cruz Mountain Poems. Now he has released a collection of finely honed prose poems. Marcus anchors philosophical insights to dazzling imagery and metaphors. He explores the line between essay and poem, prose and poetry--but he remains firmly grounded as a poet. His work is accessible, appealing, and profound.

If you like to read material that uses vivid word pictures to deal with thought-provoking subjects ranging from childhood to our place in the cosmos, then this is the perfect book. Marcus is never didactic, but pulls us brilliantly into his world and helps us to see as he does.

In "My Father's Hobby," Marcus describes a man who collects sneezes--and makes the whole description work perfectly. "Fire" is an extended poem in 26 short parts. Beginning with a burning house that "...seemed a god had gotten loose inside and was raving against his creation..." Marcus effortlessly alludes to Troy, the burning of Rome, Alexandria, the Chinese poet Wei Chuang, cremating Shelley's body, Aborigines, and many other elements in a masterful display. "My Encounter with the Eternal Mystery" not only holds us in suspense, but allows us to make the supreme discovery at the same time the narrator does.

In one of the final poems in the book, "The Library," Marcus writes, "When I die, I will be a book on a shelf in the library, and this notion doesn't bother me. I look forward to leaning against Melville and Montaigne, and I can't wait to stand in the ranks shoulder to shoulder with Rabelais, Sterne, and Twain..." He goes on to mention Cervantes, Chekhov, Dostoyevsky, Li Po, Whitman (and he should have added Borges). Moments Without Names fits well with the books of these authors, and even enlarges the literary world of these giants.

Moments Without Names certainly deserves a wide reading, and I recommend it enthusiastically.

a deeply touching book of poems , so needed in these days. Marcus' work, takes off on a great journey of storytelling, and never forgets to invite us along on the trip. Buy this book or any of his others, for everyone you know.They will thank you for it.

A new approach to financing public education that makes sense for the 21st century. Should be read by school board members and members of Congress and all others concerned about the future liabilites Americans will have to those who have retired. This book should start a new public discussion but is being ignored for lack of publicity. Easy to read economic analysis, sprinkled with humor and cartoons.

Mort Marcus, one of America's hidden literary treasures, has become a superb master of the prose poem. One of this author's attractive qualities is that, unlike many poets, Marcus doesn't seem to be out to show off, or prove anything. The pure joy of re-inventing the world, inside and out, through language and imagination, seems alchemy enough.

A seasoned writer who clearly respects readers, so much so that he stays out of the way, Marcus invites us to co-compose with him. By opening my heart, my many minds, my memories to these magnetic pages, I quickly learned that my own enthrallment would power the journey. It was those very faculties that enabled me to richly co-create with the author all of the unimaginably tantalizing, mini-stories, thumbnail histories, legends, pictures, myths, sketches, murals, and musicals crammed into this new volume, which is as lovingly conceived as the book itself (from the legendary Hanging Loose press) is designed.

Often -- as in "My Father's Hobby," in which we meet a reflective man who collects actual specimens of sneezes on microscopic slides -- it's the situation, the little storyline, that captivates. Marcus knows how to make believable his every premise before he nudges his spellbound collaborators to let us know it's OK to spin out or float off into unexpected directions or realms. Try "The Girl Who Became My Grandmother," "The Man Who Kicked the Universe in the Ass," "How I Came to Own the World," or the darkly yet delightfully Slavic selection called "The Mussorgsky Question."

At other times, it is language, the physically affecting beauty of it, that sends a shiver up the spine. Such delectably sayable prose poems as "Kisses," "Explanations of Night," "The Oceans," or "The Big Broadcast,"("What is immortal in us is not moral but those feelers of light merging with the next object we touch, those antennae surrounding us like radiant body hairs that sipped from something else that sipped from us whatever, at that instant, we were."). Or take "The Swallow," or the riveting title piece, "When People Could Fly."

Readers weary of the regulation whiney, ho-hum, stand-up confessional poem, which has overwhelmed American poetry for far too long, will smile and nod and shake their heads as they sample and chomp down into these stunning prose poems.

Don't be surprised if you wake up in the middle of the night and find those vestigial wings sprouting back out. I couldn't get enough of this delectable stuff, and there is nothing else like it anywhere