Arnold Johnston's The Infernal Now offers us poems that are acutely aware of mortality, counterbalanced by the timelessness of poetic forms, especially the sonnet, which he manages with flair. Johnston looks back "to the tacky apartment where I lived alone/On West Main Street, teaching sophomores how not to rhyme," while remaining attuned to the long-standing and present tense "true love of [his] life...The world in [his] arms." In this...
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Poetry