That's house as in Hausfrau and all the homey niceties of life as it is lived on Elm Street, Hometown, U.S.A. Maxine Kumin has hatched these poems in the garden, in the kitchen, in the root cellar, in the lilac grove, in the haybarn or the outhouse. They're familiar domestic sites. Some are about her lively relatives and a childhood in the '30's. Some are about pets and animals, including ""The Amanda Poems,"" Amanda being a sensible strawberry roan; the pussycat who gave birth in a drawer of bright-colored lollipops; dime-store turtles who always die young; and the owl who is the voice of ""Insomnia."" Other poems explore the alien landscapes of the human body. Kumin's poetry is one of apt similitudes, of organic beings and realities clearly and unambiguously perceived--a poetry that amplifies the comforts of the good life. With four novels, four previous collections of poetry and a Pulitzer Prize, she's safe and self-assured.