POETRY JULY/AUGUST 2024

Maybe dad was right: poetry is for queers.

I’m done reading the editorials in this rag. Much like with my ongoing study of the world’s major religions’ holy books, I just want to ingest the raw texts and decide for myself how they taste.

I know this flies with great hypocrisy in the face of what you’re reading right this second in the form of one of hundreds of my own opinion-based reviews on this website, and I acknowledge it. It’s penance to write these. It’s discipline. I need to do this, and I’m sure that many of the editors of POETRY feel the same.

But golly good fuck if I don’t want to read them anymore. So, I won’t. Do with that what you will.

2025.02.09 – 2025.02.23


Previous: The Bhagavad Gita
Home
Next: The Count of Monte Cristo