Email me at jmayhew at ku dot edu
"The very existence of poetry should make us laugh. What is it all about? What is it for?"
“El subtítulo ‘Modelo para armar’ podría llevar a creer que las
diferentes partes del relato, separadas por blancos, se proponen como piezas permutables.”
I'm tempted to say that 2010, in the poetry world, marked the broad realization that there is no cure for stupid. I flailed awhile among the comment boxes myself, in the spirit of the times, and it did make me feel that at least poetry matters to someone. An illusion, of course. The battles took place among elites, most of them tenured professors or climbers in search of tenure or PhD candidates honing their thesis arguments. Nobody outside these circles gave a damn; certainly readers of poetry, what few are left, did not give a damn. It was comedy—a Battle of the Theorists, avant-gardist factions waving paper knives in the palace corridors: pure Molière, pure Pope. Oh well.
I gave a damn. And a very vocal (very articulate too, if I may say so) damn. I was neither tenured nor a climber. Nor was I honing my dissertation. I just cared, as a reader of poetry.
The blog age has passed. Perhaps people are hashing things out on Facebook these days. I wouldn't know.
The blog age has passed. Perhaps people are hashing it out on Facebook.I wouldn't know.
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