As usual, there's not a poem in the current Poetry that's worth a damn. For instance, there's a blurb of hideousness entitled 'Age Appropriate'. Here are the first few lines:
Sometimes,
mystified by the behavior
of one of my sons,
my wife will point out
if it's age-appropriate,
making me wonder why
I still shout at ballplayers on TV
and argue with the dead.
It's complete lack of style and grace is a manifestation of its intellectual and emotional banality. The turn implied by 'and argue with the dead' is senselessly appended to add a spectre of depth to the damn thing. And, it's pairing with the clunky 'I still shout at ballplayers on TV' is risible. Who cares why you do anything?
Nothing more than bad prose chopped at random into lines that run down the page without music, this bland thing is a perfect example of the typical Contemporary Poem In America. All such works deserve their future inevitable oblivion.
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