if his poems demand attention
simply because of their elaborateness and difficulty,
then he has in some sense failed.
I am…in love (not wisely but too well) with language itself.
Too often the result is tedious foolery,
the language run amok with Jabberwocky possibility
(words, words, monotonously inbreeding),
as if possibility were reason enough for the doing.
Everyone interested in contemporary poetry
should read random books hidden on dusty shelves…
In our time of tired mirrors and more-than-tiresome confession,
the prize is the rare poet who writes through the looking glass.