Now is the time for every good man to understand war. Too bad, for now is the time an understanding seems very hard to come by. Only this month doctored photographs were pawned off on busy editors at Reuters news agency. And we learned not to trust what politicians tell us about modern wars long ago.

Enter the poet. Lloyd A. King does not - cannot - tell us exactly what wars are like today for they are different in some ways than what he remembers. Still, the futility, the bureaucracy and yes, the humanity, must be similar. Unlike the stories told to us daily in this decade, King does not embellish and so, though Vietnam is a different war, we get a sense of battle, its camaraderie and senselessness, first hand.

King is careful with his illustrations, too. Influenced by the ink on silks and woodblocks he encountered in Vietnam, their utter simplicity tells us far more about the place, time and war than any gratuitous and graphic attempts at illustrating the horrors he has experienced ever could.

On occasion I found King's extensive use of rhyme disconcerting, not quite right, a bit forced for the poignant subject at hand. At others it felt comfortable, the perfect voice for a young leader who cared for his troops and still managed to get home alive to tell the story. I believe anyone interested in a grassroots, honest, gut level but simple rendering of war will appreciate this book of poetry.