Every year I try to read at least one book of poetry. Often it goes down like sugar, with collections by Eliot or Whitman or Thomas. But this anthology opened my eyes to some now forgotten poets, ones who may have been read a few decades ago but no longer. Archibald Flemming, Frederic Prokosch, Archibalb MacLeish, and Wilfred Owen. There were dry stretches where I seemed to connect with nothing, but the last two collections were real revelations. Additionally, the introduction was a very scholarly look at poetry and its history. The words in the title could confuse you, as there really isn't anything new or particularly modern for the current time, but that may be what most appealed to me. ( )