It is difficult concentrate the first time through this manuscript because each poem induces such laughter. If one expects only a few truly bad lines, as is the case with most bad poetry, one may wish to skip ahead in the hope of laughing soon again. But in this collection each line is so bad that one can profit greatly from reading slowly. What makes these poems so funny is that without mimicking any, they quite closely resemble poems that win prizes–poems which, however middlebrow, are widely considered edifying or profound, and highly suitable for broad consumption. These are poems offering the homely Zen-like insights a grandmother more insipid than your own might have provided, poems without opium or dream visions, poems without corruption, unless youthful masturbation is that. The speaker imagines himself a highly sensitive individual, and from this vantage-point is able to offer unoriginal, yet instructive perspectives on daily life. His words make palpable the soulfulness that lies hidden under every dirty dish, and that only truly bad poetry can yet reveal. For the scholar hoping to discover the nature of poetry, an excursion into bad poetry is essential. This awful collection will be necessary reading for years to come.