I read this for a college course and didn't like it at all so a decade later I figured I'd give it another try.

His obsession with scrotums still makes me cringe, and he just writes lots of poems about things that I think are gross that I don't want to read about. This is not really my kind of book.

But he's not a bad poet. "Woman at the Wall" is so haunting. This book itself is so very sad.