Eyewear is very glad to celebrate Canada Day in London. Apparently, there will be hockey and rock and roll music in Trafalgar Square all day. Blue Rodeo, who I first saw at the McGill Ballroom a quarter-century ago, take the stage at half-nine tonight. Meanwhile, the young newly-wed Royals are in Canada itself - that brash young nation, filled with natural resources (not least of which are its rugged optimistic and fair-minded people). Storm clouds hover over the Rockies, though, and peril not even the Mounties can arrest lurks, in the news that the CBC mandate is up for review, and that venerable corporation, Canada's BBC, may be slashed ruthlessly by Conservatives, twirling their mustachios.
When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se....
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