Title: A Working Girl Can't Win
Product review: One cannot help but wonder, if Deborah Garrison were not senior editor at The New Yorker would her jejune attempts at poetry ever have been noticed, much less published? Uggh. What a bunch of superficial, rhyme-y dime-y fluff. Good poetry marinates in one's marrow. Garrison's stuff (I won't dignify it with the name "poetry")floats like dust on a dingy supermarket tabloid rack. If she wants to vent her spleen in the wee hours, fine, but she should keep it to herself and not use her position to force it on others. Someone needs to say it, so I will, this emperor(ess) hath no clothes!
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