is the Love Child of Robert Hayden and Federico García Lorca.
I love Scott too! He is awesome.
a most egregiously thin and commonplace poet--filled with the rhapsody of the one note band.
I was born on a harsh, modest ranch in central Texas; the son of a cowboy. There, I learned to marshal what few resources I have. Though given little, I was taught to do my best with what talents I fortunately have. I have found my way out into the world—-travel, education, writing, teaching, translating. I admire your use of the words “egregiously” and “rhapsody.” However, I also detect insecurity, bitterness, and profound malice. If you aspire to being an author with any integrity—-the first rule of thumb is you must have the courage (the heart) to put your name to your words when you elect to eject them into the public sphere. Snarls by “anonymous”—-no matter how accurate or elegant—-are generally relegated in our society to terrorist notes or bathroom walls.
My dear Mr. Hightower: That you would even respond--and so copiously--to a one-line criticsim of your work, when, I am sure, your friends told you to ignore it alltogether, reveals that not only is "anonymous" insecure. And then, to wallow in an aria of self-pity about your supposedly deprived life in Texas (were you tempted to evoke an image of being born in a log cabin, A. Scott Lincoln?)--why, Uriah Heep, y'are so 'umble! What a nice touch, with phrases such as "harsh, modest ranch" (Why ah guess those arrogant, swa'grin' Cawtrights tewk awl yor daddy's land, huh?), "few resources", "given little"---blah, blah, blah, and in a round about way, give yourself a pat on the back, Uriah! Come now, dear, you've got college degrees, you as a professor taught at the universities of Fordham, Columbia, and NYU, you've gotten the Carruth award, earned praise from well-known poets, received compliments from critics--AND THEN, ONE SMALL PINPRICK ON THAT MASSIVE EGO OF YOURS!--why you've not had it so rough. And then, one tiny criticism, and you're off the deepend. What kind of a ranch?--a m-o-d-e-s-t ranch. I didn't know ranches were nuns. I mean, you've got nothing better to do than trawl the blogs for insults to your poetry. How pathetic! Nevertheless, one must now pose the fatal question: has this dart hit profoundly the mark about you, Scott? At a certain level, do you know it's true?--a possible Freudian slip found in your own response: " Snarls...no matter how accurate or elegant..." And by the way, why is the remark a "snarl"? My dear, recall that Shelley, Keats, Tennyson, and Frost, just to name a few of your confreres (debatable but charitable) endured far worse, and they didn't whine about mistreatment. They didn't get bothered by a little criticism, whether it were from Anonymous, Higamus, Hogamus, or Whateverus. Only a shallow, talentless person would respond to such a squib. So, congratulations! Your response shows just how inept and insignificant you are as a poet. That you would even waste your time proves completely the point that has been said about your slim talent. My advice,honey: get out of the publishing game and assuredly get out of trying to be a published poet. You don't have the stomach for it. Because, in the "public sphere", as you put it, there will always be criticism and disapproval--fair or unfair, anonymous or otherwise--so get over the Mount Everest Ego, or get gone, milquetoast, you just can't take it. I guess, you'll just have to go back to your modest ranch.
My name, Mr. Hightower, is Roger Chase. I could not seem to leave it on the above message , because the website system would not let me do it when I chose "blogger"
Post a Comment