Concrete poets continue to turn out beautiful things, but to me they're more visual than oral, and they almost really belong on the wall rather than in a book. I haven't the least idea of where poetry is going.
“Why hast thou made me born in this country, The inhabitant of which is satisfied with being a slave?”
“Trying to sneak a fastball past Hank Aaron is like trying to sneak the sunrise past a rooster.”