on, David Denny sings a variety of odes to rescue pups and window spiders, angels and freight trains, Starbucks and the Beatles, film noir actors and post-impressionist painters. In a world besieged by bullies and braggarts, Denny's poetry creates a refuge for the meek, a kind of Zen calm in the eye of the storm. Unique among North American writers, he makes his gentle stand in the heart of the suburban wilderness, excavating the extraordinary within the ordinary, holding up small shiny bits of treasure among the seemingly expansive hodgepodge of invasive junk.