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« Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow? (by Laura Orem) | Main | Hump Day Time Travel: The 3rd Avenue Elevated, 1950's »

May 26, 2010


I am never sure when I am reading flarf. The only time I am sure is when the poet precedes her poem with a statement: This is a flarf poem. Mostly I don't care if the poem identifies as flarf or not. I don't pay attention to the poem's ethnic identity. If the poem moves me, I like it. Does it move me, make me a little thoughtful or pleased or sad or anything. That's the only criterion that matters, to me anyway.

Congratulations Sharon, this rocks.

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That Ship Has Sailed
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"Lively and affectionate" Publishers Weekly


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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