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Work March 9, 2012

Posted by The Typist in Odd Words, Poetry, Toulouse Street.

In America everybody’s expected to work and even the poets cry about the hours spent on their craft, co-opting the language of capitalism to justify Guggenheim awards and NEA grants. In fact the key to poetry is found on park benches dissecting the clouds trying to come to terms with what has happened.
— Stephen Elliot



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