Narcissism is an infinitely renewable resource. Too bad it’s the source of most contemporary poetry.

The Morning News http://bit.ly/2UAOTSt

When Harris goes travelling, he writes about travel. When he goes to an art gallery, he writes about paintings. When he becomes a parent, he writes about his children. The impulse toward this kind of poetry is perfectly natural. Who, after all, do we find more interesting than ourselves?

↩︎ The Walrus

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