Decomposing perspective

The reviewer is clueless, the poet is talented, the poems are unclassifiable. A few moves and an arc of poems are enough to make poetry soar successfully. (After PJ, loosely.) It all happens in the poems of Rita Bak in the first volume. And even more, much more. The vomiting of his generation, the insecurity of values, but the desire for man and God. To declare belonging to those who are imbued with the suburbs and lowland landscapes, to raise them into poetry, as in the case of their great predecessors. The continuous and boundless interplay of the outside world and the inner world. Like a sandy path on the banks of the Tisza or a cobblestone road in the center of the capital, it opens up equal perspectives for the stepping person, even with his eyes closed! But it is still and unknown here - inside in the darkness of the soul and outside in the world of companion (giving) - the result of all our steps: "Unknown / progress / direction." bloody modern woman: to be seen.