Three poems by JT Welsch
The Market Thank god, the past is free from commodity, free to occupy more reliable abstractions. O, to be a tourist of one’s own life, a gift shop full of all the things I always deserved as a child: the graphic novel of my Punic Wars. What could they ask that wouldn’t still be cheaper than experience, and wouldn’t still put interiority on every relic? … Continue reading Three poems by JT Welsch