I have been a fan of Charles Wright since I found Chickamauga remaindered in a used bookstore. It made me go back and reread an earlier book of his that hadn't impressed me and I realized that I hadn't been ready as a reader in that moment. Of course, when I go back and reread poets I did like at that time I realize that Heraclitus was a very wise man.
I was eager to read Sestets because I like shorter poems and I wanted to see what Wright did with this form. I have to admit that I like the results. Wright can't let go of the long line so he uses enjabment quite frequently which makes me savor the sound of each line. It also slows me down so I don't read a poem in one big gulp. Wright has a great sense of place and that comes through in these poems; however, it is not his usual of Charlottesville, Tennessee, or Italy. I get the feel that he is writing many of these in the West although it doesn't matter and I could be geographically challenged.
What does matter is the voice. Wright imbues these sixty-nine poems with a sense of impending loss and yet joy of the quotidian world. His is a sure voice that doesn't hesitant to be profound, whimsical, and attuned. I'm a sucker for a good title and Wright has quite a few in Sestets. This book may not convert new fans (although it should), but if you liked anything you have read by Wright before then you will not be disappointed in Sestets.