I rather liked this when I was young, but latterly have begun to think it's a bit daft. The poets concerns are a combination of overly immature and overly temporal. It's at its best when the humour comes out. I always quote one bit: 'my language, my one language, where each word strains to utter itself like a malletty wooden turd.' That's hilarious, but not going to unseat Montaigne! (There is a nice meditation on lady parts, mind.) Actually, there is a book of essays by Paulin - what's it called? - and in the preface there is one of the nicest wee bits of writing I have ever read. I always think of it. It's to do with the stick: 'feel its lithe, slippery sappiness.' I love that! Hey Paulin!, don't be so nihilistic. Commas are alright really. Don't worry, they won't make you Heaney, right!