I got this book from my good friend, Gus. I've read all of the poems in it a few times, but I'm keeping it on my "currently reading" shelf, because I think I need to read them each several more times. Gus tells me that this is New York School of Poetry, Second Generation. He describes it as relatively accessible, which concerns me.
A mixed bag - a lot of the poems here rather sadly anticipate Ceravolo's later religious hokum, but so much here - particularly 'Ho Ho Caribou' - is wonderful. No one sounds like this, and no one else I know manages to make a radically disjunctive aesthetic sound so profoundly cuddly.