Garage Sale is a collection of odds and ends, a recollection of summer afternoons on his great grandparent’s farm in the back hills of West Virginia. Among the memorabilia of his boyhood is an assortment of evenings on the earth, like keepsakes accumulating in an old shoe box—the stuff of our lives and “such stuff as dreams are made of”—set against a backdrop of the stardust in a universe full of holes. Finding meaning here requires an awakening to what is truly human in us—learning how to lend the helping hand and healing embrace of friendship and love, and feeling a kind of kinship with even the lowliest of creatures. A blend of narrative and lyric—part reminiscence, part foreboding—these poems are like an old, dusty ledger recording the images of a lost world. In a bottom-line culture that only holds sacred the value of money, this poet’s toolbox reclaims the language of things left unsaid, the unspoken wisdom hidden in the urge to give everything away and join in the dance of dying stars, where we are only trespassers on the holiness of light.