<p><b>A turbulent, celebratory flight from an accomplished witness and journeyman.</b></p><p>Antony Di Nardo's third collection of poems occupies the air between Canada and Lebanon, viewer and painting, victim and triggerman, reader and page. Blending a bohemian ebullience with a reporter's obligation to witness, the poems in<i>Roaming Charges</i> are a heady and celebratory bouquet of jet fuel, camaraderie and muezzin music. They look long and hard at their subjects, but also speak of the trails those subjects leave across the skies.</p><p><i>I look for contraband from the infinite <br>in the work of others, ducks in a tree, <br>tales of mishaps/shipshapes, insincerities <br>at gloss the fugitive crickets and their happiness, <br>slip-ups at the marvels of a spirit world <br>still stuck in the land of vapours, a sound <br>like distant thunder from the back of the plane...</i></p><p>--from &quot;James Tate, Son of a Jet&quot;</p><p><b>Praise for Roaming Charges:</b>&quot;This latest collection is luminous with the undeniable self in lyrical surrender to the dramas of mankind.&quot; --Robin Richardson.</p><p>&quot;This is poetry that aches... that matters.&quot; --Michael Mirolla</p>