I once said to Helen Vendler, “Why is it that I do like Pound's early

things—the Chinese translations and ‘Mauberley’ I like very much—

but I just can't read the Cantos? It's not because they're unreadable,

because I'm unreadable too, so why can't I read him?” And she said,

“It's perfectly all right, only Fascists like Pound.”—John Ashbery


Pound take up your money again

it’s no good here

behold the Spring again

what an array

it’s a really fine show

the real magenta

pallid pink trumpets


the yellow bounders

red desert stars

beside the sea of muck to smite the colonnaded bastards

make a note of it now

the divine Edgar Walt Herman

none of them for you but Mark Twain

sniffing out ersatz

like the Wasatch Review of Books “a humorist”

would they but knew it