More than any other modern poet, he's put the lyre back into the lyric, illuminating the haphazard mosaic cast by his thoroughgoing imagination of Bomb--the "Budger of history." He puts down the bomb in the best way possible--outlines its look and boom in a pattern of words which locates the explosions in his being, to express them--creatively, "lyre and tuba together joined." He cannot write in fear, as though the atom were the monster, as though it and not ourselves exercised the power. It elicits a hymn from his pen, "neither for or against the bomb," says [Allen] Ginsberg "--it just reduces the bomb to insignificance because the poem is greater than the bomb." (67)