August 19, 2007


Sir, we have read
without compensation

and no more than usual
recourse to your rum

your entire oeuvre.
We have some questions:

Why no tempo?
It's all one glissando,

as though rubbing sticks together
could generate passion.

We divided on the issue:
What aspect of your work

is the most heartless?
The poisoned floss,

the severed necks
of old women? Others

chose the headlong
celebration of rules

or the brokered hypocrisy
of your critique of sin.

—Tad Richards

Posted by dwaber at 02:05 PM