Suppose, old, you find yourself more in love with the world than ever, even while knowing, also better than ever, how vile and violent much of history is, how cruel time and ill fortune can be. What then? That is the question which Weltner's After Dwelling on Earth confronts not to answer it, but to pursue it further, to deepen it so that at least the question itself makes more sense in the way poetry can sometimes do, by accepting for itself the offered ways of love and language.
