Maybe it's because we share this fever dream of seafoam and ship wheels. Maybe you just enjoy the way the rain falls in rings like small farewells. Maybe you have even conducted night watch in the same heartbroken skies. Perhaps you only long for an anemone of midnight as vaporous as everlasting lace. Whatever the case may be, I hope "The Keeping of Lights," a new collection of surrealist poetry, will fulfill all your needs.