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'Late antiquity' is marvelous, it has a really depressive feel to it that is still self-ironic enough to climb into a poem without being down in the dumps. my potential future.. if I start looking at pedagogy &c next spring. thanks Fred KS 2008/8/16 Frederick Pollack <[log in to unmask]> > Late Antiquity > > > Anomalously brash, > provocative (but of what?), > the voice would have belonged > in a classroom of the Sixties, when snooty > literacy flared briefly > at the hour of its death. Now in the Zeroes, > however, his fellow-students > writhe, silently, slightly – equally > disgusted whether he "really" wants > to know or is showing off > (but what?) when he asks, > after the lecture on the Fall of Rome, > "But what *caused the quote Failure of Nerve > unquote? I mean, like, > a few years before they were screwing > anything that moved and worshiping > Aphrodite and soaking in big hot tubs. > Then suddenly they're down on > all types of sex. Our textbook doesn't explain it, > and you haven't either, Professor." > > You know those moments when someone doesn't > answer a direct question … > Politicians answer another, which wasn't asked. > Bureaucrats say, "No comment." Businessmen, cornered, > make pleasantries, plead ignorance, > cry lawyer. But professionals > must bear the unspeakable in their very > flesh. Especially when, > *qua teacher, one is a bottom-feeder > professional, unable > to retire because of pills, mortgage, > sick spouse, junkie kid; > tenure a joke decades old, stuck > at Budweiser State, one loathes all students > but hates this one. > And silent and flushed, one looks at the door, > the window, the clock, till the boy > learns an important lesson. > Or one pulls it together enough to say, > "The issue wasn't purely sexual." > > > > > The Poetry of Empire > > > We were taking a course in the Poetry > of Empire. But so swift > is change in today's world that the Empire > collapsed at midterm. > Students from the new Empire > (they spat, talked in class, > despised the work and anyone > not themselves) quit. > Students from prior Empires > greeted the change as yet another > sardonic, predictable and predicted > allegory, and stayed. > I, from a mere Culture – with > the wit that replaces a past, a passport > stamped by my torturers, someone's couch > to sleep on, skill at hunger, > and hope for a nicer couch – stayed > > because I like the material. > The Poetry of Empire is spacious, > generous. Through it one sees > the poet's house, neat or charmingly > disheveled. A sleeping child, > and the child eating. Beyond that child, > a career and amours. > Beyond the lawn, a car, > and another, beyond the husband another. > A vast buffet, if one tunnels past > irrelevancies! This poetry > reminds me of my Culture's, which is all love – > vertiginous love for a queenly, disdainful, > in fact all-powerful woman whom, > tunneling, one can see > weeping and mutilated > in a dark room. > > But when I said as much > to our prof, a man of the Empire, he shook > his graying pony-tail, > dismayed that someone like me, as black > and wise as night, should praise Empire > over Culture. > Unalarmed or unaware > that his Empire was no longer there, > and that he himself must sink > from sensitivity to pain, he seemed > day by day more ethereal > to us who remained. > He will survive like a verse, > this one: "It is not for me > to grade, to teach you, but for you to teach me!" > – in one breath begging > love and a curse. >