Sorry for last week–the gods of the intertubes laid a righteous smack on my connection and blogging from an iPhone, even with the new cut and paste feature, isn’t all that feasible. I’ll try to make up for it this week.
What would you do if you got on a bus and saw a poet performing? I like this idea–but not the one of a bus full of poets. Poetry is too incestuous as it is.
A Compulsive Reader thinks we may be in another poetic late-Victorian age. ACR might be right, but I find this particular argument too broad and without enough definition of terms to be compelling. It’s an interesting idea, though, and one that bears further exploration.
G. M. Palmer‘s argument about flarf and conceptual writing is a bit over the top in places, but the disdain which flarf defenders post in the comments says more about them than the strength of Palmer’s argument.
Biography of Eros by T. R. Hummer.
