<p>This arresting first collection is, in part, a delicately balanced look at Beirut from the perspective of a Westerner who lives and works in that remarkable city. Whether writing about the Middle East or about domestic life, Di Nardo refuses to romanticize; he doesnt moralize about the causes of perennial conflicts. He is that rare thing: a clear-eyed witness.</p>Here and there Starbucks coffee cups collide<br>with service taxis and re-assign the chaos, litter<br>the brittle landscape of the coast, while the world<br>command picks through the sands of lawlessness<br>for just a grain of what remains of itself,<br>the little air of familiarity defunct, despised and fed<br>to those on foot like scraps to gutter cats in the shade<br>of too many parked cars that took the place<br>of date palms standing on the sidewalks.<br>Yet no one would ever leave their shift at the wheel,<br> or turn home in the grim belief lifes purpose is that unreal.<br> (from Oh the streets of West Beirut)</p>