In his twenty-ninth collection of poems, Norman Dubie returns to a rich, color-soaked vision of the world. Strangeness becomes a parable for compassion, each poem leading the reader to an uncommon way of understanding human capacities. In the futuristic sphere of The Quotation of Bone, the mind wanders meditatively into an imaginative and uncontainable history. The Quotations of Bone: The meal of bone was a soured milk--just the heads of giant elk in a dark circle looking down on a wooden bowl of soda crackers and pork. One large knife resting in the meat of a woodsman's calloused hand. He grins at his woman who is slowly poisoning him with the stringy resins of morning glory. A tasteless turpentine with pink pig. The speeches of bone are matrimonial in early autumn--by January there's a froth of blood at a nostril. He thinks a long icicle is buried in his ear. She thinks D. H. Lawrence was a grim buccaneer. I hate most men. Adore the few named Lou. One small addendum: the dead elk are grinning too

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