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« Bukowski's Creed | Main | Anti-Confessional »

November 27, 2009


This is wonderful Mitch. I love it.

Ditto! And what exactly is finnan haddie? I've heard the name but never looked it up - I suppose I could do so now, but what fun is that?

i looked up finnan haddie and learned it is baked halibut. my father occasionally ordered it but i don't recall what it looked like. he also occasionally ordered frogs' legs, totally "treif" and too horrible to think about.

Baked halibut I could do. Frogs' legs and escargot - blech.

"Finnan haddie" appears not only in a Cole Porter lyric ("My Heart Belongs to Daddy") but in the fish department at Citarella, where the customer service representative explains that it is a smoked white fish off the coast of Scotland that Europeans eat for breakfast.

PS I'm crazy about the poem.

publishing houses should be stumbling over each other with seven figure offers for Mitch's poems on this site during the past year. This is the best of its kind since O'Hara and it has got resonances to Villon, Chaucer, and everybody else ever worth reading. Maybe to say so aloud is foolish though and it should be kept quiet to let him keep working.


How many have headed forward and won against all advice and the prevailing winds. Anyone that has achieved any noteworthy level of success has plowed on against all odds.

Lenore Kadison is your mother?

Let us shower Mitch Sisskind with all the finnan haddie he can eat.

Oy, Mr. Chaucer, it was good you gave a mention to Town and Country. It's good also about the children's furniture stores and nice dental offices like once were on Peterson Avenue (thank you Dr. Bernstein). But now I don't know what it is but I think just about shmattes.

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I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark

from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman

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