pbA new collection from the author of iTraveleribiibriibriNot days of angeribribut days of mild congestion, ibriinfants of inconstant sorrow, ibridays of foam in gutters, ibriblossoms and snowibrimingling where they fall, ibria spring of cold profusion.ippIf a rolling stone gathers no moss, the poems in Devin Johnston's iMosses and Lichensi attend to what accretes over time, as well as to what erodes. They often take place in the middle of life's journey, at the edge of the woods, at the boundary between human community and wild spaces. Following Ovid, they are poems of subtle transformation and transfer. They draw on early blues and rivers, on ironies and uncertainties, guided by enigmatic signals an orange blaze that marks no trail. From image to image, they render fleeting experiences with etched precision. As Ange Mlinko has observed of Johnston's work, Each poem holds in balance a lapidary concision and utter lushness of vowel-work, forming a distinctive music.p