are the poems of an intelligence almost successfully resisted,
committed to ordinary heartbreak and the American sublime
as it passes over into the American depression. As Baxter
sees it, there is only too much there there, and it gives
his poems their unforgettable edge, like an oyster gone crisp.
If you start with "The
Last String Quartet of Arnold Schoenberg," you will
not be able to stop before you have made your way to the first
one, not in this book but sweeter for being unheard."