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Anderson is a Catholic deacon in Corvallis, OR, and his occasional blog posts read like sermonettes. They comfort me. I expected his poems to do the same. Some do, but many others discomfort me. Some confuse me. It’s a mixed bag. The title poem ponders what our existence was before we were born and whether it will be the same after we die, then takes us into a nursing home where the people are laughing and the poet feels inordinately happy. “Mom Could You Have Known When in the Evening,” a poem