A modest, workmanlike collection of poetry, with neither great achievement nor disturbing flaw, by the writer in residence at Georgia's Emery University, who is also a former editor of the Kenyon Review. The book is bipartite, divided into a neo-biblical creation cycle of lithe and graceful mythopoetry called ""The Letters,"" and a miscellany featuring a series of poems set in the Civil War South--somewhat intriguing since Mott is a British subject. Several poems in the latter section are written in breathlessly long lines which are set in a miniscule type that's a severe strain on the eyes, whatever the aesthetic value. Mott's favorite device is alliteration--which tends to clank-clank after a time; and his weak metaphors and images are something of a drawback. His metempsychotic historical sense and apparent love of mooey, caressing words nonetheless affords a certain pleasure to the reader disposed to the form.