March 22, 2016

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March 22, 2016


On break, I curled up on a pile of boxes and read from my Mentor Book of Major American Poets.  That winter I was working in a plastics factory.  I also pondered the kinds of entries I was writing for the book.  It seemed to me that I wanted to write about lovemaking directly and plainly, without avoidances.  The buzzer rang, and I hopped back onto my forklift.

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