<p>“Among cornfields, junkyards, and a Dairy Queen, the eclectic cast</p><p>of Rustin Larson’s Lost Letters and Windfalls marches across a rural</p><p>stage: an old woman small ‘like a burlap bag/ full of nylons,’ family</p><p>members, angels, finches, the wind, the muse, and a young girl in a</p><p>Degas painting. The poet asserts: ‘The light falls upon all things. I</p><p>have/ my memory of you—quiet as a/ picture frame among all these</p><p>broken houses.’ In poem after poem, Larson captures images firmly</p><p>cast in time yet eternal—even slightly holy: ‘But here’s what we are:</p><p>each man, each woman,/ each neuter object, a church.’”</p><p>“‘Listen,’ Larson urges, ‘the world/ begins in a moment.’ The</p><p>moments described in these poems are painterly and vivid. The poet</p><p>trusts only his ‘sense of touch.’ They conjure a world of isolated</p><p>stillness where