Comments on: Remembering Carruth

By: Michael

Michael — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 22:44:07 +0000

NEG, Thanks for that wise response. It's much more generous than mine would have been. I will say that it is conceivable that one actually can have friendships across generations. Biting my tongue before saying any more, I would suggest that readers dip into the following obits to understand why some of us will mourn Carruth's passing: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2008/oct/07/poetry AND http://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/hayden-carruth-poet-who-produced-work-of-unapologetic-affection--despite-lifelong-struggles-with-mental-illness-950819.html

By: NEG

NEG — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 20:18:43 +0000

& I guess it’s no surprise that we young folks so love the ones & zeros reflected back to us in our own tiny electronic mirrors, but what about our responsibility to listen before we talk? Oh, right, the age of the internet’s done away with all that. There’s the mouth, the eyes, the nose, and those two other mouths on the left and right side of the head, exactly where one might rest one’s glasses…

By: Matt

Matt — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 13:46:03 +0000

With all due respect to Carruth, it’s not a surprise when an old person dies.

By: Aaron Fagan

Aaron Fagan — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 22:09:35 +0000

While folks are all knotted up in a jabberfizzy over that hoax anthology post, I am reminded of the passage below from Carruth’s poem “Marvin McCabe”:
. . . It isn’t becuase we’re a joke, no,
it’s because we think we aren’t a joke—that’s
what the whole universe is laughing at. It makes
no difference if my thoughts are spoken or not,
or if I live or die—nothing will change.
How could it? This body is wrong, a misery,
a misrepresentation, but hell, would talking make
any difference? The reason nobody knows me
is because I don’t exist. And neither do you.

By: NEG

NEG — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 20:57:23 +0000

Good God, what does it say about poetry when the antics mentioned in the post above this one generate so many comments while the passing of Carruth—always extremely generous and pluralistic his writing, so much of which was given over to discussion of the work of others—makes so small of an electronic splash? Is poetry really this solipsistic? Um, maybe don’t answer that…

By: bill knott

bill knott — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 18:02:51 +0000

“Everything Billy Collins claims to be, Carruth actually was,” says Paul Constant———
. . . this is pathetic: is this the way to eulogize a poet,
by insulting another poet?
I don’t know that Collins himself “claims to be” anything, for that matter
it’s readers like me who claim or exclaim Collins is
a great poet———