Can I hold you closer to me
And not feel you going through me?
Edit: And here it is
Paul Haggis: The Scientologists didn't want this one.
NBC is showing Hallowe'en themed figure skating which is creepier than Hallowe'en themed ANYTHING ELSE.
Because I'm mean:
If you'll be Emma, I'll be Leon
Raise my ire, raise your fist
Oh! Strike me down; I'll be on
that like a hankie round a pistol.
The only library in Northern Michigan that has Mackenzie Phillips' book is Manton's and there is no joke there.
[placeholder for a piece about Dave Levey, the winner of the latest season of Hell's Kitchen, and his broken wrist as a metaphor for the inspired, willful direction our country ought to be taking]
In the poetry workshop classes I've taken, there was a common expression used whenever a poem expressed its mechanics too fully, or any other vague offense it had committed. The offended would claim that he or she had been taken out of the (reality? of the) poem. No further explanation needed, no further help provided.
Poetry is not creative non-fiction, it is free to expose how it works (in fact, this should be encouraged), poetry is allowed to implode on its own irony. Poetry is not Show Choir.
It is rather jejune of anyone to think otherwise.
One moment of hypocrisy: I honestly believe that only left-aligned poetry is capable of having pleasing qualities.