But I can't and don't ever want to write bell-yanking confetti-tossing hat-throwing poems.

Honor the miraculousness of the ordinary.

Like a lot of people, for a long time I thought that the road to hell is paved with bad sequels.

Each sudden gust of light explains itself as flames, but neither they, nor even bombs redoubled on the hills tonight can quite include me in their fear.

I don't want my poems to be sentimental, though I do acknowledge that sentiment is probably rather under-reported in a lot of people's feelings a lot of the time.

But I can't and don't ever want to write bell-yanking confetti-tossing hat-throwing poems.

Jenni Fagan is the real thing, and The Panopticon is a real treat: maturely alive to the pains of maturing, and cleverly amused as well as appalled by what it finds in the world.