The American poet Clayton Eshleman’s work, spanning forty-five years and including major works of translation (Cesaire, Vallejo) as well as editing, is much less well-known than it deserves to be. Rather than try to give some kind of an overview of his substantial achievement, which makes him in my opinion one of the most important living poets in the English-speaking world, I have decided to focus on Eshleman’s writing about painting, not only because of its unusual range and depth, but also in the hope that this will encourage some readers to explore his work further.

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