Ekphrastic poems broaden and deepen our understanding of their subjects; only the best ones, however, match their visual eloquence. In Hoyt Rogers’s marvelous new volume, Heard in Art, time and again, whether addressing works from Titian or Vermeer, Tintoretto, Caravaggio, or Claesz, sublimely, with wild erudition, they do. —Daniel Lawless, author of I Tell You This Now After all is said and done, whatever it is we leave behind of ourselves can sometimes be deemed an extraordinary treasure. This exquisite collection of ekphrastic poems—Heard in Art by Hoyt Rogers—based on a favored grouping of paintings by the artists Titian, Tintoretto, Caravaggio, Claesz, and Vermeer, is just that. With great imaginative zeal, Rogers reveals those particulars within each work that might easily go unnoticed but which are fundamentally critical to the balance of each painting. His poems accompany each depicted object and each character by way of an eloquent association of its details with his own hopes, dreams, loves, and regrets. By doing so, the artist and the poet have traded places. The painting has become the poem, the poem has become the painting, and with deepest thanks to Hoyt Rogers for his keen ear, both are the gift we’re given to hear. —Paul B. Roth, author of Before the Aftermath Hoyt Rogers has bravely chosen famous paintings, supreme masterpieces, to explore in his sequence of poems. Bravely but also wisely, because readers fortunate enough to discover the book will bring their own love and knowledge of the pictures to these encounters. The highest praise I can give is my certainty that our mutual mentor, Yves Bonnefoy, would have loved this magnificent volume—not only the poems, but the generous notes as well. —Anthony Rudolf, author of Silent Conversations and European Hours Paintings do not speak. They show. Such is the paradox announced right from the title of Hoyt Rogers’s captivating Heard in Art. The poet has carried off the tour de force of listening to painting, that “silent poetry” (as Simonides of Ceos put it). Through his precise, vivid, indeed sensual poetic language, the very settings and scenery, the objects and finery, the models and their truths or fictions, appear themselves to be asserting their presence. And Titian, Tintoretto, Caravaggio, Claesz, and Vermeer can somehow be heard passing over in their minds how each detail must lead to another and form a visionary whole. Yes, the spectator—the poet, but also the reader—is “a seer” who has learned to listen to “the seen.” This is Baroque illusionary art at its subtlest and often at its most verbally lavish: these ekphrastic poems are miraculously expressive. —John Taylor, author of What Comes from the Night