My second-oldest son is taking a poetry class from a somewhat famous American poet. Perhaps next year some time, after he graduates, and is on another continent,  I will relate what he has to say about him/her so far. It’s entertaining.

So anyway, he tells me tonight about the last assignment. Write a poem about tragedy. (post-Katrina, I suppose). He said, "I knew all of the poems would either try to get you to cry or they’d be about how George Bush is evil. So I decided the only way I am going to survive this class with my sanity intact is to be satirical and strange."

So what did you write about David?

"Leprechauns."

Good plan!

And what did the professor say? As much as he/she ever does:

"I like those leprechauns. Next?"

See – it pays to be true to your inner vision. Never let go, never sell out.

(Oh – and he was right about the other poems….)