CORN CHOWDER

In 25 new observations, catalogs, and stray thoughts, all as sweet and chewy as the six previous servings, Stevenson (Corn-Fed, 2002, etc.) invites readers to contemplate how a long, practically unused pencil came to have such a flat eraser or to guess what’s in the oversized backpacks lugged by a spread full of schoolchildren (a pumpkin? 200 trading cards? the family dog?). In other places they can compare the behavior of an active baby elephant with a more sedentary baby panda and regard pages of doorknobs and paint cans. He tucks in a rare self-portrait, too—next to a gigantic jar that represents all the peanut butter he’s eaten in his life. His poetry is as pithy and casual as his sketchy, masterful illustrations; opposite a page of various glues, pieces of string, and other fasteners, he writes, “When you think / everything is / falling apart, / look / how many ways / there are / to hold things / together.” Studying two pages of drugstore shelves, he says, “When I go to the drugstore and see how many ailments there are, I am grateful to be alive.” Readers will be grateful he is, too. (Poetry. 7-9)