Louis Cabri

Dr. Cabri was one of my writing teachers ages ago. I considered his style the absolute antithesis of everything I hoped to stand for, which is something you want in a critic more than you want in an editor, but I took it anyway. I thought his other two books were simply the usual kind of bad, with only one or two good poems and the rest are all boring. He's since evolved from that and his third book is amazingly, wonderfully, ecstatically, magnificently, fabulously, brilliantly, completely batshit insane. No really, this book is 100% crazy from cover to cover—which is more than most books of poetry get. It's better in performance than in writing though, so maybe there'll be an audiobook of it on UbuWeb someday ages from now.

There is a claim about this book that I cannot substantiate; there is one poem in Chapter 3 that makes fun of me directly. I can't prove it, but I know it. He's edited some of my work, after all, though perhaps nobody else will ever know that.

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