The Pulitzer Committee
is proud to announce this year's winner for poetry, "Maurice" Leiter (relation unknown but suspected), a
great soul that has graced this country for too long to not be
officially recognized. Leiter has been a scarcely-published writer of
verse since the mid 1990's, when his "Poems II" was first written. This
first work was a sensation, taking the literary blogosphere by storm:
Poems in the roadway found in tire tracksPoems on soiled napkins rescued from trashPoems inside matchbooks like something to buyPoems on toilet paper unrolling without endPoems in cereal boxes like prizes to be triedPoems shaped in seaweed delivered by the tide. . .Death poems ringing coffins wrought by wriggling wormsLove poems found at morning drying on the sheetPoems poems poems poems poems
This
is the genius of Leiter, and why he is an American treasure, the
Whitman, or even Ginsburg, of his generation. The images presented by
Leiter surpass "Leaves of Grass" one-hundred fold. When an ordinary man
sees a piece of trash, Leiter sees glory; when an ordinary person sees a
soiled napkin, Leiter sees a story; when an ordinary person sees a
fragment of rotting kelp at the beach, Leiter sees Neptune's beard. Does
this not teach us how to think—nay, how to live? And the poet does not
shy away from stark images: of "coffins wrought by wriggling worms". How
exactly a coffin was created (wrought: beaten, or shaped by) by
mere worms, the poet does not stay, but leaves us to mull over it, until
we can grasp what he has long known. And when an ordinary person sees a
suspicious stain on the mattress, Leiter sees only the residue of love:
"Love poems found at morning drying on the
sheet". Then our poet repeats the word "poems" five times, so that we
will not forget we are reading a poem on a page full of poems about
poems. Why? His poetic power is unstoppable.
In another tour-de-force, Leiter discusses without any shame his own behavior when young(er):
In college I gave a talk in Comp LitOn Le Rouge et Le NoirThe hour before classI sat in the johnTrying to figure out what to say
It took merely an hour to think of how to speak extemporaneously on a subject! And was not "on the john", but "in the
john", literally swimming in it. This man has no restraints; nature
made not a mold for him, but that he should break it by his muse and his
talent. Anyone taking a university class could either deliver a
prepared speech, or speak off-the-cuff. But few could do both at once!
The man's mind is multifaceted in both its apparition and capabilities.
Nor
is Leiter afraid of experimenting with traditional forms of free verse.
In "When the Poem is Done", he masterfully weaves accidental sounding
rhymes with free verse:
When the poem was doneAgain old sorrows spunThe painful course rerunAs antidote to dyingAnd drained silence wonThe welcome apathyOf greying lightAnd day retired sighing
. . .
He is able to rhyme both "spun" and "rerun", and better yet, is able to push the boundaries of the meaning of "rerun" beyond that of merely referring to previously-aired television shows. He also seamlessly changes the syllabic accent of the word. Grammar rules are not meant for the great! So our poet breathes new life, pouring new reviving (rereviving) blood into our timeless language from his many spouts.
Leiter's
mind known no earthly bounds, yet it is still as humble as a Bulgarian
peasant's. Witness his masterpiece, "To Have Lived This Long":
To have lived this long in fealty to women without understanding them yetknowing their value as they melt or harden with the changing seasonsTo have lived this long scowling at the genuflectors the cringers theclingers the gossips especially the barren patriotsTo have lived this long among these barbarians even perhaps to havesupported them by inaction to have tutted and tsked but not to haverisked my body
The
standards for a Pulitzer finalist—nay, winner—have obviously been met.
Each line begins with the same "To have lived this long", and that is
genius of the work. The repetition combined with bathos brings the reader
to tears, and these are not crocodile tears, by any means. Women are
not moody to Leiter, but they "melt or harden" (presumably they maintain
their original shape, however). And despite a free verse form that does
not require further poetic license, Leiter chooses to drop important
grammatical words such as "and" between lists of nouns, all the better
to shock us of how cruel the world is, yet we live in it still. And this
is Leiter's world! And the barbarians: Not even the soul of our poet,
who truly is a saint-sage, could hold back rage against those who
have "tuttted and tsked" when reading great words, or having encountered
such a great personality.
Finally, to show his understanding of world culture, Leiter mastered even the obscure and difficult form of Haiku:
Falling the ant risesAnd falling rises climbs againSay we two are free.
Here, the poet weaves the image of an ant falling and rising at the same time.
Do not question this, as it is no contradiction: one must accept this,
if one has understanding, that something can go up and down (physically)
at the same time. Why an ant would fall down at all, since it
(as an insect) has six legs and is rather good at climbing, is a
question the poet does not even deign to address—his mind is pushing us
to the clouds and away from such petty details. Our poet can see past
base appearances. The ant "falling rises climbs", giving us three action
verbs at once, shows how perseverance and doing three things at once
is not limited to the higher strata of the animal kingdom, but among all
of nature's creatures. The ant is capable of multi-tasking beyond the
level of even a modern personal computer. And finally, the trifecta is
ended with an aphorism: Say we two are free. Leiter's long-lost
spirit has been freed by the sight of a mere ant (mysteriously) falling
down! This is not petty, but profound. The poet and his ant companion have shared a moment together. Long may it last! And poetry live in the heart of his readers!
And
because Leiter writes not for profit but for art, he placed all of his
poems online for
free. http://leiterreports.typepad.com/blog/poems_by_maurice_leiter/.
The Pulitzer Committee is proud to add "Maurice" Leiter to the list of
past winners, such as: Carl Sandburg, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Robert
Frost, and now, Maurice Leiter. Read him, and understand truly what it
is like to be alive!
Sincerely,
Pulitzer Committee
p.s.
If anyone has a good "radio announcer" voice, The Committee is looking
for volunteers to recite Leiter's poetry; maybe a recording or two (fair use!) could be placed
online, to bring art and literature to the masses. It could be read aloud in every school in the nation.
________________________________________
Preston Bell, premeditatedmeditations.com.
Let's talk about something real (put the coffee down, coffee's for closers). Even if you survive law school mess and "make it", as you go all in with law, and end up as CFO of a major financial institution (that crashed and burned), would it have been worth it? Does the culture of the legal industry lead "successful people" to reflect upon their lives (20 years down the road) as "missed opportunities"?
ReplyDeletehttp://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/10/opinion/sunday/is-there-life-after-work.html?smid=pl-share&_r=0
Should be pointed out. Though Callan was CFO of Lehman, she started her career as an attorney (and probably someone who today would speak to undergraduates to ignore opportunity costs which include law school tuition). From the article at
Deletehttp://rockcenter.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/03/15/17301962-former-lehman-cfo-erin-callan-dont-do-it-like-me
Callan grew up in Queens, N.Y., the daughter of a police officer and a homemaker. She was driven – a competitive gymnast who practiced so hard her hands bled, and a serious student who secured a spot at Harvard University and later New York University School of Law. After law school, Callan headed to one of the city’s most elite law firms, Simpson Thacher & Bartlett, where she worked with Wall Street firms, including Lehman Brothers.
Preston, this is the best post I've seen on this site. Had me laughing at my desk at work. A funny and clever stab at our bud Brian. Classy.
ReplyDeleteThe King is leaving us...
ReplyDelete"Blogging hiatus for the rest of the month
Spring Break begins here, and I'm on a lecture tour abroad in South America and won't be on the Internet much, if at all, for most of the next two weeks (I also travel with only an ipad which, for reasons unknown, doesn't work with typepad any way).
---
I have one special item pre-scheduled for Monday, and that's it. Regular blogging will resume in April."
So get that? Leiter does not, repeat, does not, have Internet access. Nothing posted on the internet for the remainder of March could possibly be by Brian Leiter. Got that?
I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for his "special item" on Monday!
Who will protect Brian's wikipedia page while he is away?
DeleteHow does such a genius completely fail at meter?
ReplyDelete"Poems inside matchbooks like something to buy
Poems on toilet paper unrolling without end
Poems in cereal boxes like prizes to be tried
Poems shaped in seaweed delivered by the tide"
10, 12, 13, 11 with no discernible rhythm.
And what does "inside matchbooks like something to buy" mean, anyway? Do you normally buy things from inside of a matchbook?
"Poems on soiled napkins rescued from trash." So, Brian Leiter is pulling used sanitary napkins out of the trash and writing poems about them? What a classy guy!
ReplyDeleteHe sniffs them.
Delete"Do you normally buy things from inside of a matchbook?"
ReplyDeleteSome matchbooks used to have ads in 'em. Stuff like those "if you can draw this turtle, you could be an artist" ads for art school.
A more up to date version might say, "if you can read this ad, you could be a lawyer!"
Er, Leiter, women don't "harden". You're thinking of dudes.
DeleteViolets are blue
ReplyDeleteRoses are red
But if Leiter's shit be poetry
Then cap me in the head
Cut it out, folks. Maurice Leiter is Brian's elderly father. He is a sweet man, and a decent man, and has nothing to do with his son's antics. No, I am not Brian Leiter, and I don't like him, and I think his efforts to "out" people are reprehensible. But the family should be off limits.
ReplyDeleteI have no problem with your taking cracks at his PhD students, but not family. Most of us have elderly parents. Keep your eyes on the culprit, and the family off limits.
I am the Anonymous poster just above. To be clear: the poetry is written by Brian's father, not by Brian himself. So, please stop. Attack Brian all you want, but not his dad.
ReplyDeleteWhy not email Brian and tell him to target people who send him email, not all the people in that person's firm?
Deletelol
ReplyDelete180
Bwian's bwother? Looks similar, but more benevolent. And with better teeth.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.arnoldporter.com/professionals.cfm?u=LeiterMauriceA&action=view&id=66&CFID=21239200&CFTOKEN=74039232&mp=1
Maybe not. Maurice, if it is really his "dad" and not one of his plentiful internet puppets, is 80 years old (as per Brian's own blog).
DeleteThank god that the grave is soon going to claim this world class "poet", if nothing more than to stop him writing this drivel.
Is "Maurice" retarded? His poems are like some of the shit I saw when I worked in a home for retarded adults.
ReplyDeleteI guess that would explain a lot about Brian. Simpleton for a father...
The most obscene and repulsive stuff I've read in years. Marvelous!
ReplyDeleteI feel dirty having read that. But I agree with Ms. Turner. Fantastic! Once in a while, you just stumble upon a diamond in the dirt, and this poem made my day.
ReplyDelete"To have lived this long among these barbarians..."
ReplyDeleteIt is sad to think that the son could not escape his old man's cruel face, forced to dwell amongst his inferiors.
Please repost the Maurice Leiter Poem, "My Son", regularly. It is a work of art that brings tears of joy to my eyes. And hopefully it brings tears of sadness to Maurice's eyes as he realizes, in the twilight of his life, that he was a failure as a father and as a poet. Sorry, Maurice. You lose. You just get one ride on this planet, and the product of yours is an object of universal ridicule and hatred. Douchebag.
ReplyDelete"Brian"
ReplyDeleteBy Maurice Leiter
I hear the patter
of his fingertips on the keyboard.
More internet chatter.
More internet data.
More secret natter to find
a ratter who can give him IP addresses so he can
tatter a reputation.
He tries to matter
but nobody cares.
His cock grows fatter
and his fingertips caress its tip as he views
his own reflection in the screen.
He loves to see cunts on his computer, like porn.
That fat, yellow-toothed cunt.
Then the splatter
of his batter.
And the clatter
of soiled napkin in trash.
I pick it out.
Another poem is written.
Could this be the beginning of a collection?
DeleteI almost puked at the thought of Leiter jerking his tiny cock to his reflection in his monitor.
DeleteClass! Please keep going wiht this schtick! I wamt more Maurice Leiter poetry,.
lol splatter of his batter
DeleteAccording to complete heresay on another website, it's Brian's brother Maurice:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.arnoldporter.com/professionals.cfm?u=LeiterMauriceA&action=view&id=66&CFID=21239200&CFTOKEN=74039232&mp=1
If true, fair game, especially since the poetry is universally hated.
If this is how you are spending your parents' money or adding to your student loans I am pleased that I no longer have kids in college. Had you bothered to "research" any data base as a practicing lawyer might do, you would know that Maurice is Brian's dad. Mr. Leiter is an elderly scholar,and a former teacher. He has spent his life working for cause oriented organizations. That Brian wishes to so honor his father by giving voice and purpose should be respected. Perhaps,someday you will show your gratitude to your parents in a similar fashion. The scolding Granny(No relation to the Leiter family).
Delete