Spring
I woke from an odd dream in which Ed Dorn had possessed Ron Silliman and after first reviewing his own book (a Penguin US, though not yet listed on their site) had gone on to praise David Shapiro, decorating his position with some fake stamps from Vietnam and a link to a display of modesty by Stephen Rodefer. In this dream the Poetry Foundation hadn’t been knocked back in Indiana and pigs flew in the open skies of Europe.
