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A capacious, elegant collection from a writer “with an ear as subtle and assured as any American poet now writing” (John Koethe).
from "April 2003"
I felt like a boy again, my navel flat as a dime—
The glamour of protest, however compromised,
Our certainty old people were wrong.
Poetry is against war or else it isn't poetry
Said my friend the poet, as if by breathing
We were glamorous.