STAG'S LEAP
(a sexual complaint about 'poetry')
I'm reading the shit of Sharon Olds and
it's really making me puke. Just another
whining form of altercation with all those
vast regrets of self : lost husband, sex
and marriage. As if anyone would care.
Page after page, the same marvelous crud;
a sanitest of artifical tile, a linoleum to cover
bare floors. I am not forced to stay here, so
I won't; but I wonder how does this all go?
She's got some women's reputation as a go-getter
for the fairer bunch, a newer Plath of these
saving days - a something reaching something
by ultra-modern means we need. Yes, well, I
guess that all may be - those small-minds
come together nicely; like a Sharon Olds
husband and wifey. Those small minds
come together nicely.
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