He seems to define certain outer limits, a lighthouse warning of deadly rocks. If at times a deluded monster, still our monster, an American poet trying to accomplish something. That is probably why Frost et al. went to bat for him, no doubt at considerable risk to their reputations. [But a cultural appropriator -- scary stuff!] If he means nothing to you, so much the better for you. But how not to identify with his passion for poetry, for Dante, for example? Is it all pretentious B.S.? I don't think so. If I had never heard of him I would still respect the eccentric, ambitious Cantos, even while thinking it was marred by consisting 2/3 of irritating prose. As for the other 1/3, Pound could write free verse like no one else. Most free verse sounds like notes for a future poem to be worked up at leisure. Pound's sounds finished. To coin a phrase, my two cents.
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