'One need not be fluent in the language of cricket to enjoy the
swift, percussive rhythms of Roger Bonair-Agard's second opus
calypso. He has refined his line, composed a pulse upon which he
conjures, with a sort of astonishing and tender obligation, the
fantasies and pathos of adolescence as well as the complexities of
mature reflection. These are love poems for Trinidad and America,
love poems for their histories, which are tragic, hilarious,
wistful and unfinished. '
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