Poetry. "The only way these poems could've existed without the glorious mind of Tim Earley is if Gertrude Stein, having found herself suddenly preaching in the deep south, punched Gerard Manley Hopkins in the face while he sang in her choir, and if the rearrangement of bruise and bone, fist to face, her language against his, was delivered to the congregation as a prayer, as a whole town's last goddamn hope, then maybe, maybe the faintest scent of...
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Poetry