I don't care much for [Audre Lorde's writing in The Black Unicorn], which seems far too close to the commonplace. (One wonders why contemporary Afro-American poets haven't learned more of the real eloquence, tribally based, of their Caribbean and African colleagues, especially those who write in French.) Yet few poets are better equipped than Lorde to drive their passion through the gauzy softness of commonplace diction and prosody. One can't help being absorbed in it. Her best poems move me deeply. (pp. 712-13)