This is love poetry, yet it isn’t – Reiner doesn’t open up easily or cheaply, nor does he do things for show. The work is discreet but not cryptic. Reiner has a dexterous command of language and verse but he is more interested in contours, atmosphere, the whole reconstituted from the fragments; in something we – that is, those of us who are not content to pass through landscapes as if we have no place in them – attempt in vain to capture our whole lives long. The collection includes poems from Reiner’s travels (in Bath, Hayes Valley, Whangaroa, Utah, France, and the small Moravian town of Kunštát) in which this ‘view’ is particularly distinctive.
Description taken from the author’s website.