This is the right way to put it. But I love his book. The ambiguous paths of kinship pull me in opposite ways at once. A poet is never just a woman or a man.
Every poet is salted with fire.
A poet is a mirror, a transcriber. The Concord's current followed the same law in a system of time and all that is known. He liked to watch this current that was for him an emblem of all progress. Weeds under the surface bent gently downstream shaken by watery wind. Chips, sticks, logs, and even tree stems drifted past.