The book review section of today's NYTimes has an appreciation of Jorie Graham, a poet very popular with poets.

Graham's work combines two qualities not generally found together -- first, it's often sumptuously ''poetic'' (''in a scintillant fold the fabric of the daylight bending''); second, it's ostentatiously thinky (typical titles: ''Notes on the Reality of the Self,'' ''What Is Called Thinking,'' ''Relativity: A Quartet''). The former quality appeals to lovers of operatic lyricism; the latter quality not only pleases certain parts of poetry's largely academic audience, but it soothes the art form's nagging status anxiety (anything involving this much Heidegger must be important).

Hence the must-be-important-ness of this blog.  ¶ 7:13 AM