Found Poetry? No shit!
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I talked in my last post about my found poems from NHS materials. To be honest, part of the pleasure of this to me has been that I do like the dark attraction of medical materials. I enjoy old surgical textbooks with the frontispiece illustrations where you can fold back the skin to reveal the muscular structure underneath, and continue to reveal layer on layer of meticulously drawn anatomical detail. And when my partner and I visited Paris, the place I was most insistent on...