How odd, to have googled for an image of this book cover and discovered a photo of myself ca. 2006 among the results.
At first I thought this was like a designer imposter version of Frank O’Hara (“If you love O’Hara, you’ll LOVE Tim Dlugos!”). The flighty arrogance, the irreverence, the slight snobbery of knowing a lot about art in a society that prides itself on disregarding art. The flirtatiousness that is played both for comedy and for sting.
But Dlugos is more than that, becomes more than that through the course of this book. Disarmingly so. He writes the true thing, the awkward thing, the real thing that is so real it makes everyone in the room a little uncomfortable.
The poems are often lush, overfull, voluminous. They are litanies of the every day. And you know now how much I love a litany.
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