Who are you? What — Are You?
Are you the stuff of the earth?
Are you information and dirt?
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The book paints images. I don't know how to think about poems, and the word has never sat well with me, but that's what it does: it paints mental landscapes, awarenesses of moments and places in time that I was privileged to encounter, and found some need to try to comprehend. The images come from the mountains, the deserts, the swamps and the woods. Very rarely do they deal with the city, or even with people in any way other than as observers of nature. The poems aren't written in the trap-catch academic style, they're just written. Some rhyme, some don't. Some make sense, some are lunatic nonsense.
Most mean something powerful to me.
