I didn't even notice Sats posted that Ginsberg poem! I dig the choppiness. But every time I try to read a beat poem, I can't shake the feeling that I'm not doing it right. Pretty sure that means I'm a square.
This is long but is as good a Trump inaugural poem as I can think of.
Content advisory: Probably for masochists seeking abject bummerdom only right now. Spahr is Whitman for the era of the sixth mass extinction.
"Gentle Now, Don't Add to Heartache," Juliana Spahr, 2005.
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