Revisiting a good joke on pretentious literary modernism: “In a single rollicking afternoon McAuley and Stewart cooked up the collected works of Ernest Lalor Malley. Imitating the modern poets they most despised (‘not Max Harris in particular, but the whole literary fashion as we knew it from the works of Dylan Thomas, Henry Treece, and […]
The Ern Malley Poetry Hoax Read More »
The poet William Wordsworth said: “Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things; –We murder to dissect.” For more on the meaning and implications of Wordsworth’s claim, see p. 68 of my Explaining Postmodernism: Skepticism from Rousseau to Foucault. Information about other editions and translations is available at this dedicated page.
William Wordsworth in Explaining Postmodernism Read More »
This is a song to celebrate banks, Because they are full of money and you go into them and all you hear is clinks and clanks, Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills, Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills. Most bankers dwell in marble halls, Which
“Bankers are just like anybody else, except richer,” Ogden Nash Read More »
It is common knowledge to every schoolboy and even to every Bachelor of Arts, That all sin is divided into two parts. One kind of sin is called a sin of commission, and that is very important, And it is what you are doing when you are doing something you ortant, And the other kind
“Portrait of the Artist as a Prematurely Old Man,” Ogden Nash Read More »
I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert … near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lips, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped
“Ozymandias,” Percy Bysshe Shelley Read More »
Don’t you care for my love? she said bitterly. I handed her the mirror, and said: Please address these questions to the proper person! Please make all requests to head-quarters! In all matters of emotional importance please approach the supreme authority direct! — So I handed her the mirror. And she would have broken it
“Intimates,” D. H. Lawrence Read More »
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this
“Song of Myself,” Walt Whitman Read More »
Reflecting on Robert Frost, John F. Kennedy (just three weeks before his assassination) spoke of the corrective power of the arts in times when politics becomes unmoored. From a speech at Amherst College in 1963: When power leads men towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man’s concern,
JFK on how the artist corrects politics Read More »