The James Dickey Reader

First off, as in all my reviews of Dickey's work, or work on Dickey's work: a disclaimer. I knew Dickey from 1991 until his death, and thus my opinion of him must be biased in some way, though I'm not sure in which direction, if any. I simply consider him now, after his death, as I did before our meeting in 1991 and our many phone conversations following our meeting, as the last great poet in America. Hart has done a good job of editing and my hat, if I had one on at the moment, would be off to him.-I don't want to belabor the point. Either you get great poetry or you don't. Hart's selection of the best of Dickey's poetry is exquisite. In particular, "The Sheep Child" a poem written from the perspective of the few seconds of life of a product of bestiality is what Dickey is all about:"...In the summer sun of the hillside, with my eyes Far more than human. I saw for a blazing moment The great grassy world from both sides, Man and beast in the round of their need,And the hill wind stirred in my wool, My hoof and my hand clasped each other, I ate my one meal Of milk, and died Staring. From dark grass I came straight....."This is Dickey at his best, in perfect tune with the wondrous and terrible insights combined with the visionary traumas of what we call "Nature," but which we are tremblingly unsure about, just like the sheep child in his (her?) moment of existence.A must for lovers of true poetry.-A rarity in these days.