Form Is the Shape of Content
Today in the taxi I picked up a guy on Madison Avenue near 45th Street around noon. He was going to JFK. He was on the phone talking about his safari to Kenya, his deals selling a gold and silver mine, etc. The Pope was visiting during the UN General Assembly, so the traffic was unusual.
Along the route he hollered: “Fuck!” then “This is fuckin’ unbelievable!” and finally “My flight is at 1:30! I’m fucked! This city! Fuckin’ unreal!” When we got there, around 1:00, he thanked me for keeping cool while he was screaming.
I thought of the fishermen on the boat Daigo Fukury? Maru that moved under the mushroom cloud 80 miles from Bikini Atoll. They heard the explosion seven minutes later and were…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, July/August 2020