\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"color: #000000; font-size: 10pt; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;\"\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eWild Honey, Tough \u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eSalt\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/em\u003e offers a prismatic view of Earth citizenship, where we must now be ambidextrous. The book takes a stern look inward calling for sturdy character and supple spirit, and a bold look outward seeking ways to engage grief trouble. The book begins with poems that witness a buoyant life in a difficult world: wandering New Orleans in a trance, savoring the life of artist Tove Jansson, reading the fine print on the Mexican peso and the Scottish five-pound note. Clues to untapped energy lie everywhere by the lens of poetry. The book then moves to considerations of the worst in us\u0026mdash;torture and war: how to recruit a child soldier? How to be married to the heartless guard? What to say to your child who is enamored by bullets? In the third section, the book offers a spangle of poems blessing earth: wren song, bud growth, river\u0026rsquo;s eager way with obstacles. And the final section offers poems of affection: infant clarities of home, long marriage in dog years, a consoling campfire in the yard when all seems lost. The book will soften your trouble, and give you spirit for the days ahead.\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e
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