That's a tremendous piece by August Kleinzahler in the latest issue ("No Antonin Artaud With the Flapjacks, Please," April 2004). It's funny and true, and hits so many nails on the head I had to stop counting. I think the debates and exchanges in the back of the issue are a welcome innovation, and very interesting. I don't have a problem with the "poetry world" talking to itself (most worlds do, most spheres of work and inquiry), but the main thing is that it do so intelligently. That seems, in Poetry at least, to be happening.