This was a really fucking hard read. But maybe there's a bit of a point in that. Really lovely thoughts. I never quite thought someone could careen through so much and still get out of a piece, at least not anywhere near as well as Mark Anthony Jarman seems to (which might be why Mark is my favourite living writer), but Antin does some remarkable things here. Really important read if you want to contemplate poetry in its oral mode, storytelling, improvisation, art and value and the inimitable value of trusting that what you say needn't be perfect and might come out all right anyhow (especially if you make it up as you go along). A shame I never read any of his material while he was alive, but I've got "what it means to be avante garde" lying around as well, and there's other offerings too, so I'm sure I'll get my fill eventually.