Raphael. That’s all this guy’s name is.

“Uncanny likenesses of Cage,” one press release read, “that resemble Cage in ways that are hard to describe, but instantaneously felt across generations, cultures, creeds and faiths.”

The limbo of tottering between states of being, the paradox of longing and self-loathing, of meaning and language, of desire and disdain, of here and now and there and then: isn’t that the central work of poetry?