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Trimboli’s well-wrought lines are best self-described as "an orchestra of small insanities held together with catgut.”

Leatherbar in Louisville

I can't stand when people "collect" their loves and hoard them. Dragons do that.

Keats and Yeats believe that the flaw of human nature is that time is in effect.

To My Brother

This is my favorite Emily Dickinson poem, even though it is not her best. It is the poem for which I have the most affection: “I dreaded that first Robin.”

That’s when I feel most satisfied as a teacher: when I see a spark of something in a student that I admire.

The poem’s argues that order can be found and already exists among the chaos of nature, but that it takes the individual’s artistic craft to create meaning to make the order’s presence known and evident.

Special Education

As I recall people thought muffins were good for you at the beginning of the 90s, and bad for you by the end of the 90s.

Our twitter and tumblr followers shared their favorite first lines of poetry.

"To Hold the Body in my Hand" & "Unnamed"

In terms of revelation, this most well-reasoned church father, this prince of rhetoricians, this ghost that haunts the whole of Derrida is left weeping violently under a fig tree and allowing the chanting voice of some gender undetermined child to determine the course for the rest of his life.

Those early poems struck me for how they treated absurd corners of cultural ephemera with the utmost seriousness, and in a vernacular language that seamlessly ascended to momentary heights of poetic beauty.

I thought since I had to witness a whole bunch of snotty poets dissect the working class poets (or lack thereof) on a thread today, I'd have some fun and brand them as they brand folks like me.

Five poems from Winter