Mucking around the fashionable neighborhood where we don't live but sort of close to us, I found a cloth copy of Paul Carroll's The Young American Poets at a thrift store for $3. (Somewhere I have a paper copy in tatters.) It's loaded with groovy photographs, one per poet, and as Joseph Harrington points out, its 1968 mashup seems unlikely today, sadly. It turned on K.S.M., and look where that got him. As/if/whether I have time, I'll scan some of the photographs. Even Time Magazine reviewed it. Crazy.