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Luke Kennard's very contemporary poem almost overwhelms its reader with imagery--until the poem makes a strange turn into story, incipient, vague, but visible, connecting back to itself and to "us," the ones made of nothing but dust.
By Mark ScarbroughLuke Kennard's very contemporary poem almost overwhelms its reader with imagery--until the poem makes a strange turn into story, incipient, vague, but visible, connecting back to itself and to "us," the ones made of nothing but dust.