Alexander's tenth book of poetry shows welcome signs of healing from past wounds and trials. His work is often brash, opinionated and bitterly cynical, and yet Shaumyan loves with great depth and hope.

Despite his great intelligence, the essence of Shaumyan's work is often self-deprecating, as in this excerpt from "Shooting the Cosmic Breeze:"

This poet's vacant skull's
consumed by splendor
of his own vanity,
where light and metaphors
collide with his
emotional void.

Yes, he is a cosmic virtuoso
of hollow phrases...

He's come full circle, matured, learned to accept himself and most of the sorrows life has dealt:

I've been walking alone in this desert
Of all the hollow words and empty phrases,
All singing loudly of truth and freedom,
Until I heard a silent voice speak in the darkness,
That led me to my inner liberation.

Shaumyan serves his hard-learned lessons in reality straight up, as in "I Used to Be Naive in Ways of Love." He's never been one to mince words:

I have no illusions anymore --
The one I used to love and to adore
Turned out to be a hooker
Nothing more.

And again in "There are Those" he share's our world's reality. He's railed against injustice all his life, but does his voice change anything?

There are those, who are killing time
Trying to write a poem to transcend
This realm -- No poem ever stopped
A war or made a fool any wiser...

Shaumyan slips from free form to formalist poetry with ease. One of my favorite rhyming poems in this book is "Bleed No More":

I will not say I loved you any less --
Whatever was one time had disappeared,
Dissolved in memories and years of loneliness,
Transforming flights of passion into tears.