Alexandria Peary, writing in the unsentimental tradition of Bishop and Moore, transports their delectable particularity into our distractible age. Any collection of objects, as Peary knows, makes a still life, whatever the forces that propelled them together: every material fact, be it a word or a movie star or a desk, has the potential to fascinate, when it falls into a receptive line of vision. The Water Draft has an idea of order, but Peary...
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Poetry