I'm not a long poem devoté. I like parts of Paterson, but don't ask me to defend the coherence of the entire structure. I prefer other parts of Hart Crane's opus to The Bridge. The Cantos is the work of Pound I'm least interested in.

Similarly, with Henry Gould, I tend to appreciate him in small pieces, rather than caring very much about the macro level of his ambitious projects. The poem beginning with the line "It takes about a year for earth to breathe," for example, is exquisite. The sounds and the mood evoked are quite spectacular. I think I even understand what it is about: midwinter spring is its own season and all that. It's not exactly easy poetry, but I wish it would receive a wider hearing. If Nobel laureate Derek Walcott is a tad over-rated, in my opinion, then Gould must be under-rated by a far greater margin, since I find him to be as good a writer of verse (if not better) as Mr. Walcott. It's a style that might take a while to warm up to, but I do think it offers its eccentric pleasures to anyone patient enough to stick with it a while.