On J-Z's "From Hands to Hands"

Letís note:
Thereís not, as there should be,
if this supposedly God centered piece of yours
can claim the name of poetry,
a hint of  music
sounding out in what you wrote.
Thereís nothing here except the incoherency
and pious, preachy platitudes youíre noted for;
no, nothing that would leave a reader
much enchanted,
filled with awe at your capacity for artistry,
at your command of lyrical phraseology,  
or struck and magicked by  
just how you captured an experience so well
that he or she
was brought to mental pleasures that excelled
immersion in dull prose,  
and made them wish to dwell
again and then again
upon your words
and want to then commit them all
to memory.
Come on, J-Z!
Can you really straight-faced claim
that what youíve posted here
is what good poetry should be,
i.e., a something worth
reciting or remembering?
Written by Baldwin
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