The poet, J.D. McClatchy,
gives pictures which, one
could say, are blasphemed
by illustration. At best,
corrupted. But we know as
many students of pictures
who believe they can hear
them. McClatchy writes to
be audited by every sense.
He was here for our first
.. Angels in his veins
Weep for their empty sabbath
and loot his sorrows.
Stalls in the Market of
Silence open next door ..
J.D. McClatchy
Hazmat: Poems
Aden
Rimbaud dying
[fragment]
Knopf, 2004©
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