Breakable Things is a rattling tribute to the fragility of consciousness and memory. “I’m cut on the floor, / porcelain in the skin, / and he breaks / he breaks he breaks he breaks me,” Loren Kleinman writes. Fastened with pinching, deep detail, the shock of loss and a seasoned sense of being resonate throughout this book. Here Kleinman describes the bewilderment of being and the feelings that come from breathing, existing. “I step into the dirt. / Its dampness / makes me feel I exist.” Caked with shame and smoke, soot and blinking bugs Kleinman renders a panorama of sharp, dazzling poems that haunt and captivate us long after the reading of this book is completed.