In No Small Comfort we find America' s interiors and exteriors, the homes and landscapes messy, chaotic in a way that any of us might recognize. And yet these scenes are imbued with a kind of peaceful acceptance, as well, even as the ground drops out from beneath our feet in these lines and " fog / becomes an essay / on gravity and fate / whose claims won' t hold up." Some poems we go to for comfort, others to be shaken awake. In Simoneau' s new book of quiet lyrics, we find the kind that mark the minutes we hold our breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. " Semblance, similitude, synchronicity: / everything comes together until what / happens is nothing special, nothing new." That' s certainly not true here, where Simoneau does what every good poet knows in their bones— he' s made us see it new.— Keetje Kuipers
