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The Whirlwind Review Issue 1 Table of Contents More Poetry Previous Lyn Lifshin
Writer's Conference BrochureSunny in the new flyer.Everybody’s smiling, writing under the trees. It doesn’t rain, there are no black flies. Flowers in bloom. No one can see the poet who will black ball you when you’re not interested in his bed. Pine smell and night birds camouflage the novelist who packs in the night, moans, “if I don’t get out of here I’ll become an alcoholic or gay.” In the photographs, the giddy cradle their paper babies. It’s like a Christmas card letter of the Happy Family before what’s really going on leaks out |
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