The Vulnerability of Order Book

"turning a moment to say so long
to the spoken
and seen
I stepped into
the implicit pausing sometimes
on the way to listen to unsaid things"

this short collection holds together as if it were a living soul. Ezra ("so I said I am Ezra/and the wind whipped my throat/gaming for the sounds of my voice") is a real, distinct voice from the first lines, and he is an otherworldly breed of wise and curious in his conversations with the wind, the sun, the eucalyptus. I've never read anything like him (As a word too much repeated/falls out of being/so I Ezra went out into the night).