Merk Muir cut his teeth on Andre Breton, James Tate, and Mark Strand . . . before sailing over to Yannis Ritsos and Odysseus Elytis (mostly,
he says, because their names were just so damned poetic!) and recently crash-landed onto the archipelago of Pound, Eliot, and Bob Dylan . . . where
he currently stands hoisting his flag.
Semester-at-Sea
People who read too much
always have bad breath,
and the French, of course,
are no exception. This is why
I choose to read Sartre et Camus
in a scuba suit. The atmosphere's
so calm down here. To see clearly,
you need only spit in your mask.
Merk Muir cut his teeth on Andre Breton, James Tate, and Mark Strand . . . before sailing over to Yannis Ritsos and Odysseus Elytis (mostly,
he says, because their names were just so damned poetic!) and recently crash-landed onto the archipelago of Pound, Eliot, and Bob Dylan . . . where
he currently stands hoisting his flag.