Abstract
A poem telling the story of a man shooting a moose is a narrative poem. If the poem goes on for a long time and the moose turns out to be his daughter who got screwed by the lecherous, jealous gods and the man then founds a city, it is an epic. Many say the Age of the Epic is behind us, the rain falls upon the moose corpse and the murderous, capricious gods seem done with us, killed or wandered oV, and, unattended, unhouselled, we charge through the bracken with only the burning hoof print of human love upon us. —Dean Young, “The Decoration Committee,” lines 1–131
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