‘I believe Beiles was an extraordinary poet. One of the masters of
the last century; and one of the most tragically unappreciated. Possibly
because of his mastery, because of his holy shadow which danced only to its own
tambourine.
‘When creativity and pathos were coming down from the heavens like
an acid rain, Beiles was walking his lonesome road soaked to the skin. That's
it, that was and that will ever be.
‘I have no intention of ruining Sinclair Beiles's memory with a special essay on his tremendous work; he simply does not need it. If you are able to read him someday, you will also understand. Everything you may need is there. For sure.’
‘I have no intention of ruining Sinclair Beiles's memory with a special essay on his tremendous work; he simply does not need it. If you are able to read him someday, you will also understand. Everything you may need is there. For sure.’
‒ from ‘Sinclair Beiles: a way of committing poetry’, Bone Hebrew, published by Cold Turkey
Press, France, 2012.
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