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Dr. Miguel Starkweather

Dr. Miguel Starkweather

There is, to be sure, a recklessness in The Hayfield’s opening line.  But benders, jags, and drunks began filling literature’s tankard from the get-go.   And many excellent lines, rhymes, twists, trysts, tragedies, and epiphanies are found squirming around at the bottom of a bottle.  Even more are found drowned there.  For that matter, give me a nickel for every pickled literary scholar, and I could pay Nathan and Hotaru for the liquor run we just sent them on.  But judging from Thomas’ uptight post just below, more than anything else, he could use the drink I plan to make for him.

As for Thomas’ quick hit job on the metafiction of the late Demod Smith, rest his soul, I’ll restrain myself and just say that kids like Thomas these days reach too quick for metafictional analysis.  (I ask my students, is that easier than getting pleasure out of reading.)

But then there’s Thomas’ cheapshot at the limerick.   My eccentric grandmother kept a limerick anthology in her bathroom, and from that slim and scandalous volume I gained my first appreciation of lines and rhymes.  Who among us would have persevered beyond the first tentative steps down the path toward a PhD in literature  if the young woman from Nantucket had been a character in a haiku.  Since the anglophiliac Thomas reaches to his beloved Stoppard in his post, I conclude mine with a Stoppard masterpiece:

A performative poet of Hibernia
Rhymed himself into a hernia
He became quite adept
At this practise, except
For the occasional non-sequitur.

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