Upon reading this book, I was left with a sense of displeasure. I'm one of the first to root for experimentation with poems... I love poems that push meaning right to the boundaries and leave you unsure of whether you should lean to the left or lie on your back. But this book seemed to be far too aware of what it was doing. It seems "too" clever - if I dare say that. It left me wanting more.
I bought my wedding dress today. It will arrive in January!
Kitsch has a new bed and sleeps in it constantly. And what does he do when he isn't sleeping in it? Why, wrestle with it, of course!