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Frank O'Hara
Exquisite strangers
Exquisite strangers

When money will have nothing to do with me, when the only voice I hear is my own and all my books are having a great laugh at my expense -- especially Lowell who doesn't think I'm a man at all -- I go to the café and sit among my amigos. The woman whose left arm has blossomed into skulls and roses is my sister. The man in the business suit, wrapped like a muzzle around his body, is talking on the phone with a client. The client is my brother. The man is my confidant . . . So begins "Amigos," a standout work from Matthew Dickman's first collection, "All American Poem" (American Poetry Review/Copper Canyon Press: 85 pp., $14). The voice is...

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