Nine one-page poems about the fleeting nature of time and relationships by Barry Wallenstein and thirty-four small contrapuntal surreal photographs by Barbara Rosenthal.

Barry Wallensteins poetry lures us into his jazz-rhythmed territory by pointing his personal compass straight toward our own active places. Once there, we meet up with our own demons and devines on the odd-numbered pages, while Barbara Rosenthal’s photographs on the even pages wrench the steering wheel right out from our moving, reeling stops at stop signs, and drive us into our own deeper dreams and nightmares. This is a book of unpretentious poetry and unmanipulated photographs that seems so straightforward and beautiful and easy to ease into the times and places and people we meet here, but as we travel through it, turning pages, re-reading, looking and reading and looking and reading again, we recognize everyone and everything and every place, as one we’ve visited on our own, but never known its reality, and its shared signifcance to us all, till now.