Hall's poetry is sparse and avoids delving into unnecessary prose and descriptions. Instead, his words focus on the blunt instrument of emotion. He has a gift for making the reader feel a kinship, even if s/he hasn't gone through the exact experience Hall is describing.
There were many favorites for me in this, particularly "Three Women", "Ruins", and countless others. Here is poetry worth quoting, and reading, if not for the stark honesty, then for the cheek:
How many springs
Until I'm dead?
Hall's distaste for sycophants comes across in some of his self-aware works:
...They outfitted my body
in an orange jumpsuit, strapped me to a metal gurney,
and executed me by injecting 500 cc of frigid adulation."
(From "The Pursuit of Poetry").