New Ashbery poem in the New Yorker

There’s a new John Ashbery poem in the current New Yorker, Gravy for the Prisoners.” It begins “I wouldn’t try to capture it / on the page, or in a blog, the inauspicious / leavings of a day.”

Maybe it’s just me, but something about it — perhaps the more somber, less madcap tone and images, the abbreviated length, and the poignant, probing final question — reminds me of an earlier Ashbery mode, almost like a version of “At North Farm” for our diminished age of blogs and “random moats.”  In any event, it’s a lovely poem. 

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