It’s difficult for me to find comparisons to these poems. There are qualities that bring to mind Milosz’s humble prophesies or the earthy divinities of Robert Bly. Some of Brewer’s poems contain the sensuality of Sufi mystic poetry, while most are subtly meditative. There’s little that’s explicitly stylized here. Brewer’s writing is direct. He points, guides, like a friend on a hike. Here, he points out the “small brush-footed butterflies / clustered this morning / in the ridges of the porch stone” with effortless clarity and confident grace. Later, he tells you that “Yesterday beneath the bruised sky / you ate the best mango of your life” with deadpan hyperbole. …