"From the cheap seats, those in the back of the house or the most distant reaches of the balcony, the view is different. What is missed in subtlety is made up for by the wider range of vision. From up high and far behind you can see more than the stage, and some of the more interesting moments take place in the margins. Not only do you see the sets, but you see them being built; not only do you see the stars, but you see the reflectors that give them light. In this first collection, Poole looks into the wings, noticing the story behind the story. His poems concern not his friend who goes crazy, but the reaction of those close to him. For him, the chimneys of a distant community look like cemetery stones, and they take his thoughts beyond the here and now. He doesn't have to know a New York woman to imagine one: "long hair/ they are always combing,/ thick hair that gets loose/ and crawls down the skyscraper." William Stafford said that poets see things in a slant way, from a corner of their eyes. From Poole's cheap seats, there's a lot more to see."--Library Journal, June 1999

THE FRIEND WHO WENT CRAZY

He began to talk slow,
and his friends would listen to the delicious words
intently lengthening out
until finally
they would leave for the kitchen,
make pancakes,
and return to sit in front of him
as if he were the old wooden radio
they'd never had. He was happy
that they ate while he talked and his
words became sweet
and thick
till he could hardly lift them
from the long depth of his throat.
Finally, his lips began to crust over
with a heavy liquid,
and his friends were shocked
until they realized he had graciously become syrup,
and they poured it on their pancakes
and always thought of him fondly.