Filip Marinovich writes about Julien Poirier, “He is a public investigator who reports openly to anybody who’ll pause and listen.” When Poirier writes, “Jehovah’s Witnesses / grouping on the sunny cracked driveway, / cyclops in forests of rosemary and juniper,” we find ourselves challenged by a weird ideal of journalistic objectivity. Facing the continuity of a Jehovah’s witness, sunlight on a driveway, and a cyclops in a forest of spices, who’s to say one is a thing more familiar than another?