STARDUST OTEL

The ``H'' in the hotel's sign has been missing since his exuberant dad accidentally pulled it down when Leary was born. Through poetry's prism, this son of ``flower children,/Woodstock lovers—'' offers his boyhood observations—some nostalgic, some very contemporary: ``They weren't sure/who pulled the trigger:/Becky, tired of being beaten;/her mother, hungry for calm;/or the dead man himself, careless with drink.'' Leary finds himself part of a sensual world that includes a nightclub singer who sometimes seems to warble just for him; an embalmer who dances with all the ladies; Alice, who asks Leary to read aloud from her bodice-ripper romance; Becky, the girl he loves; and a hot-rodder with a knack for women. It's also a violent world: a bully ends up in a wheelchair; a vet confronts the memory of buddies lost in Saigon. The rhythmic, unrhymed stanzas flow like good conversation, lagging or hurrying to suit the mood, leaving readers to fill in from their own experience. Leech's broad b&w brushstrokes evoke the setting and characters in full-page art, varied with smaller vignettes. A perceptive stroll through one boy's adolescence, sure to please and gratify Janeczko's fans. (Poetry. 12+)