Poetry, poetics, with occasional forays into other arts and politics
In Montreal spring is like an autopsy. Everyone wants to see the inside of the frozen mammoth. Girls rip off their sleeves and the flesh is sweet and white, like wood under green bark. From the streets a sexual manifesto rises like an inflating tire, "The winter has not killed us again!"
Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers, 1966
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You got that right!
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