Blake30 Jul 2002

I draw a line between disliking someone's poetry and attacking them personally. A moment ago, your "review" was in front of me. Now it is behind me. One cannot compare Da Vinci to Dada. When I read Ginsberg or cummings, I can feel empathy. With your work, I simply can't. When you compare yourself to great artists, you seem to want respect... To display a vision to the world. Somehow, something, be it divine intervention, the ghost of Keats, or just plain common sense, tells me you aren't quite accomplishing that. Responding to me in a manner reminiscent of a low-rent Andrew Dice Clay won't get you any closer to it. I'd like to thank you for your time, (A great deal of which must have been spent to think of a way to involve calcium-rich leafy greens.) and wish you luck.