where the tangent is the architecture
I'm an independent bookseller, so please forgive me if I chatter about books. They're almost all I have.
New rule: motherfuckers need to actually read Emily Dickinson before they write about her, not least if their name is Dickman and I have to shelve them beside her. The only true word in this thing is Terrifying. She turns into Superman later in the poem, and that’s funny I guess, because of the hair. Like Kal El, Emily Dickinson did come from another planet, and it is called the nineteenth century. She had a vagina, and yet you’ve still heard of her, Dickman, even if you’ve never read her, meaning that she was a talent so savage that history itself couldn’t swallow her. Bow down, boy.
I do still think this is a great poem, though, particularly the last page of which this is not a photo.
62 notes | Permalink