You don't quite know what you're looking at here, I know, I didn't either. I had to read the spine to know what the book cover was telling me. But none of this matters, it's what inside that counts, always does, and I'll share with you what is in the inside, and you'll get as excited as I did, if you can read my code. It will be a bunch of names, here goes: Arthur Jerome Eddy, Pamela Colman Smith, Victor Segalen, Gordon Onslow Ford, Jimmy Ernst, Sylvia Fein, Philip Lamantia, Andre Breton, John Hoffman, Marie Wilson, Barbara Guest, Richard Tagett, Richard O. Moore, Jean Conner, John Anderson, Sotere Torregian, Alden Van Buskirk! Yes, all of them are in this book. It's the only book out there in the world of its kind. I don't quite know why City Lights, the beacon, didn't publish the book since the author works at the poetry oasis as an editor, but the new wave of grand editors with grand titles, Wave Books, knew what to do. They published the book. The essays have an intermingling and inter-locking method to them. I believe the author swims between the essays with a surrounding passion. He has thought about all of this for a very long time. It's beyond book cost now and whether you buy the book or not. You're of course stupid if you love poetry, and even moreso, those forgotten who should have never been forgotten, and don't buy the book. Who you callin' stupid?! I am. You owe it to yourself. These are all the people your parents told you stay away from and you have tried to get your kids to read.
[ BA ]