As I've written before, I enjoy the Writer's Almanac, an account of each day's doings in literature. Today is X. J. Kennedy's birthday. Who is X. J. Kennedy you ask? He wrote one of the great poems of the late 20th century. I particularly like this verse:
"For when time takes you out for a spin in his car
You'll be hard-pressed to stop him from going too far
And be left by the roadside, for all your good deeds
Two toadstools for tits and a face full of weeds."
Now that is real poetry! Read the whole thing. It rhymes and scans--something rare in poetry these days.
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