One of the highlights of the one poetry class I've taken was being introduced to Levine's work.
"Nothing epic,” he told the Paris Review in 1988. “Just the small heroics of getting through the day … getting through the world with as much dignity as you can pull together from the tiny resources left to you.”
From "Gin":
"...Ahead lay cigarettes, the futility of guaranteed programs of exercise, the elaborate lies of conquest no one believed, forms of sexual torture and rejection undreamed of. Ahead lay our fifteenth birthdays, acne, deodorants, crabs, salves, butch haircuts, draft registration, the military and political victories of Dwight Eisenhower, who brought us Richard Nixon with wife and dog. Any wonder we tried gin."
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