Going to write another drunken sailor poem. It will be called "A Portable Puffin."
Reading Elizabeth Treadwell's new book, Cornstarch Figurine, and loving it. Also just finished a collection of Mayakovsky's early, pre-revolution poems. The revolution was good for him, I think. Prior to that, all of his poems sound like "Rick, the People's Poet" -- you know -- "I am a misunderstood genius, woe is awesome me." He was a talent in search of a topic.
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