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Dirk Stratton's avatar

Because I came of age during the ascendency of Confessional Poetry, of course, I had to reject those whiney-display-all-your-wounds (real and imagined) head-cases and their sloppy free-verse baloney. You know, it was the agonistic thing to do: youth is required to reject their elders (Down with all Fathers and Mothers! Don't trust anyone older than you are!). And yet, as this poem demonstrates, the Confessional Poets weren't completely free-verse anti-formalists, so my antipathy was a little, perhaps . . . misplaced. Thanks for this: a marvelous poem, for sure. I just love the stanza she's created (or so I presume, as I don't recall seeing this form anywhere else).

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