Tuesday, March 31, 2020

No Kidding

Extra Pound Recites
Adorno declared that poetic wits
could find no expression after Auschwitz.
The old man was deadly serious then,
more serious than any deadly sin.
Lest one hear it not: Auschwitz ist kein Witz.

Right, but what was Pound's position on all this? Hasn't he just made a joke in a poem about Auschwitz? And not just any joke, but a limerick! Hmm . . . leaves a bad taste in one's mouth.



At 6:16 PM, Blogger Carter Kaplan said...

Well, isn't that his point? After all, Extra is saying "It's not a joke" isn't he?

Ergo, YOU--and not crazy ol' Extra--are the joker!

(I am feeling a bit Disagreeblerish this morning. Of course it's obvious that it is Extra who is the joke. I think...)

At 11:06 PM, Blogger Horace Jeffery Hodges said...

I guess I'm the joker, but I try to shuffle responsibility for the joke off my shoulders and onto Extra's. (I think I can do this, or no one could ever write fiction.)

Jeffery Hodges

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At 2:11 AM, Blogger Carter Kaplan said...

Fiction is the syntactically-moderated proliferation of projecting dysfucntionists, disagreeblerites, and joke-a-philiacs.

No wonder the world is crying out for trigger-warnings, n'est pas?

At 2:27 AM, Blogger Carter Kaplan said...


At 6:48 AM, Blogger Horace Jeffery Hodges said...

I can only quote your words on my use of limericks:

"Suffice it to say that these pieces are fascinating."

Precisely. Like parasites, they fasten onto us and sup our blood and . . . well, I could carry this simile further, but it wouldn't be pretty.

Jeffery Hodges

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