Victual Reality, Or How American Poets Are
Turning
The Poem Into Tripe
Merle’s
hag-
gard
old
sagging
cow
belly’s
gone
to
pot.
The
photograph late April 1975, half-way through a coast-to-coast motoring trip
from Seattle to Boston; the poem twenty-some years later—maybe our titillating poet should have thought twice before regurgitating it.
Compressing
thousands of years into a mere twelve
days, swift-footed Hermes flew over 7000 miles to get William Michaelian’s timeless
treasure safe and sound into our hands: It was worth the wait.