Seventy-seven poems intended as a eulogy for what we have squandered, a reprimand for all we have allowed, a suggestion for what might still be salvaged. It is a poetic quarrel with our intolerant selves, a reflection on mortality and longing, as well as a long-running conversation with the mythological currents that flow throughout North America. Showcasing his incontrovertible wit and trademark wordplay, Thomas King eases onto this new terrain to draw our attention back to our painful history and the fragments of it that remain our present history.
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