What is being a poet if it’s not a parody? What good is it otherwise? Every poet dreams of wild implicit economies on the opaque side of legibility. We try to replicate them in poems and the efforts are flimsy and awkward, uncomfortable. That’s their dignity. The cabins, the basement suites, the garrets, the long crowded bar tables, the decaying houses of lost France, the MLA stale hotel room interviews: I’ve been an occupant my whole life.
– from Lisa Robertson’s “The Cabins” in the current issue of The Capilano Review
(Source: poetryeater.com)
