ashbery-voice-changing

I don’t really know what kind of voice my poetry has because it’s always changing, or at least I hope it is. But it cannot change much because it is always me or some form of me.

Thought:

“Through and through the inspired leaves,
Ye maggots, make your windings;
But, oh! resspect hsi lordship’s taste,
And spare his golden bindings.”

Robert Burns | “The Book-Worms”

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