Great White Shakra
I’m blogging this for completeness’ sake more than anything, as I don’t have anything much against the latest from our furry friend at the ODE. Other than the spectacularly superfluous first four paragraphs, that is:
To illustrate: Picture, if you will, a smiling, bearded man walking the streets of Eugene in the heat of a clear, red summer day. This man wears nothing but sandals, a stark white flowing galabia (this is a loose Egyptian garment) and a blue baseball cap with the word “Kerouac” emblazoned on it.
When it comes to exercises in imagination, a bearded man wearing sandals walking around Eugene is not the toughest one I’ve had today. And actually, hang on a second:
Much like the sea itself, reading the poem [Kerouac’s “Sea”] was refreshing.
Oh, ow. No, really, that hurts. OK, the piece is pretty bad. Diane di Prima, a poet who I really hope is spared the AS treatment in a subsequent column, correctly diagnosed the problem here many years ago:
I believe
I might have become
a great writer
but
the chairs
in the library
were too hard.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.