Corinna, A-Maying the Apocalypse: Poems
Corinna, A-Maying the Apocalypse simultaneously celebrates and laments that "we are but decaying." Betraying a love of old poems and symbols and new words and forms, these are poems where "the moon's spritzing its perfumes and the phlegm is thick and fast" over cities and Starbucks and suburbs. The poet is in love with the rhythm of the man-made world, and "the rhythm is so strong sometimes / it blows up the room."
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Sense a Second Heart
tWO The Feeling of the World As a Bounded Whale Is the Mystical
lOUr Orienteering in the Land of the New Pirates