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I agree about Hoagland. There are more than a few of his poems that I wished I had written.
"when he took off his skin, I became uninterested."
Funny, when he took off his skin is when I became interested. Maybe it's the season... The first stanza didn't do much for me. It's when it got macabre that I sat up and listened.
But I do agree about Hoagland.
There was just something so outlandish about this one, so vividly drawn, that captured me. The final stanza manages to transcend the absurdness/silliness of what comes before and becomes heartfelt. That's enough for me.
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