This poem came up recently in conversation, so I dug it up. After many years I still ask myself: Do
This poem came up recently in conversation, so I dug it up. After many years I still ask myself: Do I love it as a stark (brutal?) observation on the dissolve of progressive ideology in the face of ritualized institution, or do I hate it for the self-righteous abasement of certain women I know and call friends? There is punk rock in this but where and how? Priscila Uppal from Live Coverage (Exile Editions, 2003) -- source link
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