Bill Knott's poems are . . . rhetorical fluff . . . and fake. Votes: 7
It's just this epidemic unimportance, this pervasive feeling that just about everything is "no big deal," that drives these ordinary people to those fast-food joints, there to try to fill with carbohydrates the spiritual and emotional emptiness gnawing inside them. Votes: 6
Most of the people are no thicker than Formica, yet they hunger obscurely for some continuity with the place and with each other. Votes: 0