The New Yorker: Poetry cover image

Terrance Hayes reads Matthew Dickman

The New Yorker: Poetry

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The Poems of Dionysius

Dionysius, the god of wine, is certainly the rit of whel youknow. The spirit of his work, i think, actually, it's always a little bit wild. There are also really strong breaks. They're just not a obvious breaks. Singing us, stars, state, prince banjo, annot regular breaks, but they certainly flicker in a way that suggests energy.

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