The Professor’s Dilemma
What does it matter if
we die alone in a back
alley or at home in bed,
death is an equal
opportunity provider;
but life goes on, and no
one knows any better.
So you have a scandalous
memory,
preternatural reading skills, and more
literary knowledge than
you know what to do
with, and still you
flounder in ignorance of self
and meaning. I knew Keats
too, and his vision
of the world; but as
close as he came to God,
he too died unresolved.
A cold eye, judgment,
the dreaded axe falls
and chops the poet’s head
off with the meanest
truth: Sterling Professor
of the Humanities, seeker
of Gnostic Wisdom,
what is it that you
are looking for that the
gods of literature
cannot satisfy?
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