"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



What do the Po Mo’s want from me?

They say it is: tres bourgeois  to sit down

and write poetry   


plotless bastards  archivists treacherous avant-gardists


By the end of the class  I was alone   The group

disappeared    two by two when I extolled the

virtues of  meaning   One woman ran for the door

shouting over her shoulder: My bird whistle is not

a craft item   You lyrical bitch!  (true-story)



Winter  2013

*Barbara Guest   Parachutes My Love Could Carry Us Higher 1957

(decidedly NOT a Post Modernist)

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