There's that famous scene in J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye where Holden talks about authors and how certain ones create an urge to call them up because you think you know them so well from reading them and figure, within a few seconds of brief explanation, you'll be talking like a couple of old college friends who haven't seen each other in 20 years.
Well, I'm extrapolating a bit maybe. But you get the point. When you read a contemporary, conversational poet like Diane Seuss, you have a Holden Caulfield moment and figure you could talk the day away with her though, who knows, you could be as different as Texas and Vermont.
As for the poetry, Lord. Most I enjoy but some I read and say, "Really?" That is, slim pickings. But then you move on and get wowed as I was by the longish effort called "Allegory." It's kinda cool, the way some poems have poetic tie-ins for titles: "Ballad," "Monody," "Villanelle," "Ballad in Sestets," "Little Refrain," "Romantic Poetry," "Threnody," etc.
I remember reading "Romantic Poet" when it first appeared in Poetry Magazine. As it's short, it makes a good introduction if you've never read Seuss. There's more than one Keats-related poem in this collection (Keats is Seuss's darling), but this one's the punchiest by far.
Romantic Poet by Diane Seuss
You would not have loved him,
my friend the scholar
decried. He brushed his teeth,
if at all, with salt. He lied,
and rarely washed
his hair. Wiped his ass
with leaves or with his hand.
The top of his head would have barely
reached your tits. His pits
reeked, as did his deathbed.
But the nightingale, I said.