Saturday, October 14, 2006
Rebecca Loudon Wants Pervily to Watch Us Bathe: Day Thirteen
The extravagantly talented Rebecca Loudon, whose poems I have admired for literal years and whose life has been a snorting stampede of poetic success lately, has arrived at Wallace Stevens's birthday party dressed as a red-eyed elder, though the elder part is hardly believable, since her overawing hotness is so apparent under the glow of her convincingly reddened eyes and I cannot but long to fly home to her bosom instead of Abraham's after my own mootable death. See, poetry can replace religion! I loved this poem so much when I was a kid, before I fully understood that it was about old men getting boners for nasty reasons. Needless to say, I love it even more now.