I have to admit I’d never heard of Dean Young until I read five of his poems in the new issue of the Oxford American, which you can buy here. According to the “Contributors” section of the magazine, he is the author of “numerous collections,” a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and received the Academy Award in Literature. (I didn’t know they had Oscars for literature.) According to his poems, he is “ornately thorned and easily torn,” his “throne is a sardine can,” he is “so used to not getting the joke” that he is “probably mostly joke by now,” when he was younger he “could not draw a rabbit but / could an exploding cube full / of flaming tubas and eyeballs / and that has made all the difference,” and he “could use a smoke.” I think he might be lying, but, as he says, “It’s hard to ruin poetry.” You can probably guess that I admire these five poems. They remind me of my own, though his are a lot better. You can read some of his poems here. You can read some of mine here.