Wilkinson welcomes us into his poem with ease and familiarity, referencing “Sean” and “Jens” like we are all old friends chatting to kill time on our commute. The conversation begins with the mention of the “anaconda / they had found once / in Sean’s cattle pasture” and moves swiftly through visceral, associative memories: cleaning pigskins, […]
from
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/goodletters/2018/03/12464/
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