Wednesday, July 23, 2003

We didn't even bother stopping home first but went straight to our local public library. I tend to go there almost immediately upon arriving in town to accumulate a huge stack of books as a bulwark against projected home-induced boredom.

Something I've come to appreciate over the years is that our library has an absolutely amazing poetry collection for a suburban library, with a great range of stuff--alongside the tomes of Merrill and Lowell and Frost there's Bernstein, Notley, Palmer (Notes for Echo Lake, which academic libraries often don't have) and even Christian Bok's Eunoia.

Since I'd enjoyed Nick Flynn's Blind Huber when I read it back in May, I checked out Flynn's first collection, Some Ether, as well as John Ashbery's latest, Chinese Whispers, which I've been meaning to get around to but have been somewhat deterred by the title.

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