Charles O. Hartman's most vertiginously reasonable book so far, The Long View shows how firm the grounding of the avant-garde can be, and how wide its reach. The poems range from ten lines to thirteen pages, their forms from pentameters to prose, their voices from political to personal. They offer us invention so profligate and precise it might as well be seeing and meaning ("things coming toward their shadows"), language born for the things of its world. Brick has its page, along with Carbon, Counting, Earth, and Joke; Non-Words and Words their one page each, with Racket in between.