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William Corbett essay on the poetry "glut", reprinted from the Boston Phoenix
Corbett photos at WP (4/24/2004) |
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"Poetry," John Wieners Crossing Borders William Corbett |
"Poetry," John Wieners told me, "is no longer on my calendar." John, beautiful poet, kind and formal man, set out crème de menthe in gold rimmed goblets and a plate of carrots, shrugged and seemed relieved. Crossing Borders The mailman. Gold hood. The mailman. Cold out. How many are there like me sitting at desk, unshaven, 10 a.m. the radio on one ear cocked for the crash of mail through the slot? You can't live for yourself alone. Oh, you can but is that all there is to it? Demonstrate charm, advertise connectedness, know the different cheeses, how to garden where to travel until the dark rises out of the indifferent bushes. |
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