by carl wilson

'Translate the Bible into velociraptor'? Yes, we can

Weird. In what I can only guess is The New Yorker's attempt to join in this month's spirit of hope, unity and a post-ideological politics of citizenship, this week it's published a poem that is at once from the avant-ish side of the aisle and not by John Ashbery or Charles Simic or some other safe grey eminence but in fact by a grad student. Or, put another way, a poem by a young poet that is not about mourning one's spouse by the slant of winter light on lobster bisque. Quick, someone tell me this guy is William Shawn's sister's chiropractor's grandson or something, so I can relax again and enjoy the 40 below.

Confidential to Michael Robbins: "He has not yet found any academic application for his love of hip-hop, country music, & death metal" - ? Dude, you're clearly not looking very hard.

General | Posted by zoilus on Wednesday, January 14 at 4:53 PM | Linking Posts | Comments (6)



Oh, heavens no. *I* haven't yet found any academic applications for MY love of &c.; Plenty of others have found applications for theirs.

Posted by michael robbins on January 15, 2009 3:45 PM



Mr. Robbins, welcome! (And thanks re: the book.)

This post will now be known as "The One where Carl Revealed that He Completely Missed the News about Muldoon & The New Yorker." Making me only a year-and-a-half behind the curve.

I have caught Armantrout & Seidel in there once or twice but took it as a freak anomaly rather than a change of tides. My mistake! Though Muldoon does seem to maintain the quota of dead-spouse and slanting-light poems too.

@ Graham (but also I guess still @ Michael too): I got that it was meant to be funny, but the joke seemed to hinge on how ridiculous it would be for hip-hop, country or metal to be serious objects of academic study. Which is an attitude that folks who do popular-music studies would really like to be consigned to the past, y'know?

Posted by zoilus on January 15, 2009 2:37 PM



That should read "Armantrout," obviously.

Posted by Michael Robbins on January 14, 2009 8:55 PM



Now look here, Carl Wilson, I owned "Let's Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste" LONG before you blogged about my poem, so don't go acting all surprised. As for The New Yorker, may I say that under Paul Muldoon it's got a wiggle in its stride (though an allusion to Talking Heads' worst record is hardly likely to convince you)? Rae Armnatrout, soon Ange Mlinko, & the indomitable Fred Seidel.

What's very funny is that I submitted a 33 1/3 proposal a few weeks back, on the Mekons. We'll see how that goes.

&, dude, I'm in my mid-thirties, so "young poet" is a compliment I probably don't deserve.

Thanks for the shout out.

Posted by Michael Robbins on January 14, 2009 8:53 PM



clearly, no one should EVER try to be funny in an academic bio.

Posted by Graham Preston on January 14, 2009 8:50 PM



clearly, no one should EVER try to be funny in an academic bio.

Posted by Graham Preston on January 14, 2009 8:50 PM




Zoilus by Carl Wilson