“Grief the weather over my desk as I wrote some of these poems. Grief fogging up the windowpanes in particular poems. Grief came with its own weird chant, grief that strange emotion where you know what you miss before you understand why....In this poem, a young man dies. Like in the poem, his name is Steven Hobbs. The name engraved into my tombstone of a poem. The ambition of the poem? Remember Steven Hobbs. The labor of the poem? Love. The words my Doric column for Eternity."