Poetry. Chris Keaveney's debut poetry collection is a litany of the almost, "What the leaves in the bottom of the cup / should have said, / had we but waited for them to settle." But if he often writes of arriving late, of stopping just short, of ideals nearly believed in, of songs learned save for a single chord, there is nothing left wanting in his language, which is exquisitely precise, full of catch-your-breath moments. Through these deceptively gently poems we learn to pay attention to the details that unmask the mysteries, like a grandfather who knows "the difference between lacquer and varnish," or "the way / rain clung to pine that morning / like a drunken lover's / apology," and to arrive at what is for each of us -- as in the closing word in the book -- "precious." There is much wisdom on offer here, but none better than the reminder that "The only promises that matter. / are the ones we make to ourselves.".