There really was more to Frost than plain speaking just as there is more to truth than heartfelt truisms. But you won't find it here. The epigraphs to these poems are from de Tocqueville and Neil Armstrong, prophets of New Worlds, and Allen goes on at length about the ""threshold"" years and moving out of this century and the changing order here on the good spaceship Earth. He seems to be more of a countercultural sci-fi buff than a social critic of any depth, but even that would be O.K. if he didn't lapse into Scagull-ish cuteness like ""On such/ a day even penguins can happen"" or remind you so significantly that ""I have been to Madness. . ."" as if it were an Ivy League college or a chic watering hole instead of a pathetic human condition. Pseudo-poetry: all affectation and gutlessness.