In Donald Hall's compelling new collection of essays on the state of contemporary poetry, he likens much of what passes for poetry today to the product of an assembly line -- the McPoem.  The McPoem may satisfy the desire for fame, the ambition for publication.  But real ambition for the poet, says Hall, lies in the sometimes painful, always time-consuming perfection of the poem itself.  You may not agree with Hall, but you cannot afford to ignore him.