Stephen's Lake is an exemplary piece. It gives me hope that the notion of great writing has not been abandoned. So few poems or stories are written this well any more. You get plenty of passion and experiment, but very little quality. I think of this as an hermetic eroticism. I do not mean to suggest the the writing is obscure, but that it is beautifully elliptical. We get glimpses, nuances, a bit of the song, then we are whisked away to another scene. A love affair obviously, hints of incest, revelation and even murder (the marginalia is essential). And yet the whole thing may burn inside that sun in the puddle.
Perhaps the strongest aspect of Stephen's Lake is the reoccurring sense that an emotional state is every bit as visible, and valid, as the physical world. These states are so well blended in your story that one takes them as a matter of fact, that there is no distinction. Finally, I loved the writing. I couldn't stop reading it! It was like one of those sonatas by Ravel where you are so caught in the music that the substance seems to simply happen.