Stephen B. Wiley's poetry collection, Hero Island, draws the reader into an intimate world of personal reflection suffused with rich detail, a world at once ordinary and sublime.

Like Beat poet Gary Snyder, Wiley has lived a life packed with varied experiences — New Jersey lawyer, educational and legislation reformer, community leader — and yet is keenly attuned to the importance of the smallest things, such as a barn spider or a hummingbird's throat.

You would have a difficult time finding Wiley the lawyer in these pages, unless it's through that keen eye for detail. The language of these poems, in its clear simplicity, is as far from legalese as one can imagine. Case in point, these lines from "Castor Oil," about the favorite medicinal cure of his Aunt Deb when he was a child:

Wiley uses humor to great effect, especially in poems recalling his childhood. For example, in "Medical Procedure," he talks about how his father, who had no medical training, used to address a sore arm or leg: "he would take it in his hand / Look it over carefully / Then spit on it and say it was fine"

He's capable of being both whimsical and insightful, such as in "Without the Moon," where he muses:

Taken as a whole, this collection provides a textured look at the small moments in our lives that, ultimately, become what matter, whatever degrees and accomplishments we may attain.

Oasis, 2005: ISBN 0-9766251-0-5