read from cover to cover to prove myself wrong. i realize in reading this that i have little vocabulary to talk about poetry, maybe from having a limited background. it’s not that i disliked anything in this speciﬁcally, but it didn’t blow me away and i can’t articulate why. near the end suddenly i started noticing how rich the summer imagery was, but then it was perhaps a consummate vision of the season becoming focused throughout the whole book. “Unpainted Door” is maybe my favorite.