@martcameronFebruary 02, 2011 14:29 EST

A Sloan (the Nova Scotia-Toronto rock group) reference for a title gives this piece a definitively Canadian, late GenX slant to it. Is it passé? This brand of contented, urbane indifference is also decidedly political - and maybe even specifically Torontonian. What other sentiment should we expect from a the cultural class under Rob Ford's campaign to make Toronto the next Oakville?

Also - the poem itself is pretty underwhelming... so, good work matching form with content, I guess....

AnonymousFebruary 04, 2011 12:46 EST

It is I, Anonymous, the greatest poet, and your comment stream doth underwhelm me.

FrankensteinFebruary 05, 2011 21:11 EST

Really enjoyed the poem.

Martcameron's comment made me afraid for humanity, but then I read the poem again and felt better.

AnonymousFebruary 08, 2011 11:46 EST

Underwhelmed, indeed, by the precious self-aggrandizing smugness of this piece.

Jacob McAnonymous MooneyFebruary 08, 2011 17:05 EST

It's weird the comments on this thing default to "Anonymous". As if to say, "Hey you, reading the poem, come down here and be a douchebag."

Patrick SarsfieldFebruary 10, 2011 17:19 EST

I’d say the book was disappointing, but I had no expectations of its excellence, so that would be misleading. I’d say my team’s performance fails to satisfy, but its salary and management point to precisely such a mediocre season. I’d complain about the weeds that choke my garden, but their presence is testament to my indifferent stewardship. I’d say inadequate is not the aptest word to summarise the manifest insufficiencies of life here as we know it, but I can think of nothing better at the moment.

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

I'd say bullshitt, but when it comes to Zachariah Wells I have no expectation of anything else. The only thing that suggests that this is a poem is the format; without the format, any indication that this is poetry disappears. What remains is the tedious, banal language and a really lack-lustre idea tiresomely reiterated. In this dismal effort, there is no alchemy of language, no cadence and no transformative metaphor. This is not a poem and it’s obvious that the person who wrote it has no grasp of what constitutes a poem. Cute ideas predictably rendered don’t measure up.

AnnieMarch 18, 2011 09:46 EST

Oh. Dear. Underwhelmed indeed. Walrus, what is going on? I've respected and enjoyed your magazine articles and your (few, but good) poetry choices, but this? This is jejeune, — how does this move poetry forward?

Bah! I had such high hopes for this magazine.

MichaelCMarch 25, 2011 13:38 EST

All smirk, no heart.

Andrea is Anonymously AndreaApril 02, 2011 11:13 EST

"This is not a poem"

We thank artist Zachariah Wells
for accepting these jibes.
Doubtless saving stray puppies
from being kicked in the ribs.

(No wonder the three billy goats were gruff.
Once trolls learned how to type:
unabridged life got rough.)

Gillian WallaceApril 06, 2011 13:00 EST

This seems on the surface to be an easy poem to mock since it looks like a surface poem, sans the depth we expect of poetry. But it can't be just mediocre since it's excited so many comments when most poems get ignored. Most crap doesn't get read. Your eyes glaze over after the first couple of lines and poof, you're gone from the page.

Somehow, Zachariah Wells has managed to keep us all reading. And in my case, rereading. Five times, to be precise. I did not like the poem the first three times. But it kept calling to me. I could hear the voice so strongly. I knew people like that.

The poem's structure works. In the first case and last case, the narrator wants to disavow real responsibility. Even in the middle examples, responsibility isn't exactly seized. There's a powerful - and sad - ennui about this poem. I wonder if it resonates too much, if too many people have felt some of this sense of failure, of impotence, hanging over their heads?

I don't know. But I do know I can't just dismiss this poem.