It's only by being shameless about risking the obvious that we happen into the vicinity of the transformative.
The experience I am attempting to describe by one tentative approach after another is very precise and is immediately recognizable. But it exists at a level of perception and feeling which is probably preverbal—hence, very much, the difficulty of writing about it.
You know before you can love someone you gots to love yourself. I mean you gots to dig on yourself, know that you be bad. Badder than bad, in fact. In fact, you gotta really know what you're about.
The poem is ... an organism or temporal machine, that, from the very start, strains toward its end. A kind of eschatology occurs within the poem itself. For the more or less brief time the poem lasts, it has a specific and unmistakable temporality, it has its own time.
This book is like any other book. But I would be happy if it were only read by people whose souls are already formed.