Sam Cornish

Notes on Artistic Sterility and the Academic Imprimatur

The dude* sent me an email announcement—a great

self-congratulating pat on his back—, I was his bête noire.
Since he was on my list, I was now on his, though

when I shotgunned, it was usually to announce

not the light of lime, but rather a good sledgehammering.
His press had teamed up with a regional college to promote

the “literary arts” and the likely modus operandi

                                                of innocuous icon idolatry.

His vision of art seemed to be a castration of it,

eliciting the approval of ladder-climbing pedagogues

—those chairs, deans, chancellors, VPs, and presidents—,

other members of the local chambers of commerce,

and, of course, the proverbial old ladies in the audience.    

To be first in the series, as concrete illustration of the benefits

of sucking up, kissing ass, and playing the literary game,

he chose Boston Poet Laureate Sam Cornish,

editor of children’s literature
            and renowned author of An Apron Full of Beans. 

The dude’s purpose, besides pushing his own press,

                        was to help students of creative writing

to garner not the courage to stand up and away from the herd,

but rather to gain expertise in the fine art of literary networking. 

"This is a wonderful opportunity to be aligned

                                    with a rising academic institution,”

he declared, sounding more like a politician than a bard. 

"I want the literary community and the community at large

to know about the vital literary programming at Endicott...”

Yet how could he proclaim “vital” the output of programmers
who rarely, if ever, railed viscerally against the machine?

“I am hoping to be involved in the creation of the Hub

for the Arts on the North Shore,” he career-fully excogitated,

when perhaps as a poet he should have instead

                                                            truthfully excoriated.

Just what higher ed needed, I thought, a tad depressed

by the persistence of poetry into the smiley-face verse factory

                                    —another hub, yes, oh sadly,

of artistic censors, blind-eye turners, PC and too much civility.

................................................

*Doug Holder, publisher, Ibbetson Street Press, and Endicott College adjunct instructor