These poems are remote and completely accessible, surreal yet grounded. Like Edward Hopper's paintings, to which his work has frequently been compared, Strand's poems explore a still, mournful universe where love and words and the mundane and the miraculous sit side by side, waiting. And then, a single snowflake lands, holding the complexity of yet another universe within, and melts on the arm of a chair:

A Piece of the Storm

From the shadow of domes in the city of domes,

A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room

And made its way to the ann of the