A New Shape for YA Fiction: Dean Atta's The Black Flamingo
It wouldnât be new or original of me to say that poetry has changed in recent years. Poetry come to be seen as capital âPâ Poetry, an institution surrounded by walls of pretention and inaccessible knowledge. But poetry has no fixed address; it doesnât (and shouldnât) belong to a particular voice or face or place. To say so would erase the unquantifiable amount of shapes that the genre has taken over the years.
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