He Was Big

I was reading student essays as required by my professorial duties when I came across the following sentence:

"The Elephant Man was big in his day, but not because of his head."

I love the authoritative "brio" of the assertion because this is the stuff of poetry.

"April is the cruelest month..." Poetry asserts. It feels right. Even when it isn't true.

This is of course why politicians love poetry. 

I wish we had a little more poetry in the presidential debates.

I would really like it if Wolf Blitzer asked each candidate to recite aloud his or her favorite poem. This would be revealing I think. And much more useful than hearing about their respective faith in God.

I, by the way, always spell God with a big G because "she deserves it.

Here are some speculative poetry samples for some of the current candidates:

Hillary: "How strange to give up all ambition." (Robert Bly)

Mitt Romney: "This is just to say I have eaten  the plums that were in the icebox..." (W.C. Williams)

John Edwards: "I sing and celebrate myself..." (Walt Whitman)

Rudy: "Call the roller of big cigars, the muscular one, and bid him whip in kitchen cups concupiscent curds..." (Wallace Stevens)

Barack Obama: "A narrow fellow in the grass..." (Emily Dickinson)

John McCain: "How do you like your blue eyed boy now Mr. Death?" e.e. cummings)

Dennis Kucinich: "Do I dare to eat a peach?" (T.S. Eliot)

You can of course make up your own list of  potential poems for potential potentates...

S.K.