"What is this mystery of feeling and intellect, of incarnation in words? Why is it that even the best impersonal poets seem to charge their work with personality? And why is that quality missing from most of the poetry I read? I think of two contemporary poets who are polar opposites, Franz Wright and William Logan, two men who have had a very public squabble—Wright threatened to punch Logan out for a bad review—yet each has talents the other could learn from, talents that would expand the possibilities for his art. Wright is all confession, all open sores and sensitivity, while Logan is a prolific ironist. Neither of them moves me deeply—one because his writing is too raw, the other because he holds himself apart, impervious to feeling." David Mason • Hudson Review

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