As the unofficial (and nearly only) East Coast Correspondent of the Review…

I also thought I’d post this silly ode I wrote to New England inspired vaguely by poet Kevin Young. Hopefully it will make you laugh.

New England Ode

This affair is kinky.
My masochism, your
rivers, this affair is set
in the side of a mountain
with no name. You never
touch me—the wind of you.
I know the wind. So many
of our great American poets
have died in your arms, drunk
or desperate or both. I did not
intend to get wrapped up
in non-rhotic and closet full
of salmon polos but I cannot
leave you.



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