Joe Weil

The Four Functions and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

by Joe Weil Academia
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As Kafka said: “The crows maintain that a single crow could destroy the heavens; doubtless this is so, but it proves nothing against the heavens, for the heavens signify simply: the impossibility of crows.”

Creative Stupidity

by Joe Weil Poetry and Poetics
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Many people do not become artists not because they are stupid, but because they are incapable of suspending the thinking/feeling functions. They fail to become writers and musicians and painters because they cannot enter their highest stupidity.

Overcoming Writer’s Block

by Joe Weil Writing
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The words art and habit might seem an odd pairing, but that’s what art is: the glamor of drudgery, and the drudgery of glamor.

Poem of the Week: Carolyn Kizer

by Joe Weil Poems of the Week
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[The Great Blue Heron]

Sentimentality vs. Feeling

by Joe Weil Aesthetics
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True feeling has the force of grace; sentimentality has the stench of morals. The word “should” and “must” cling to its fat cherubic legs. Half comprised of self regard, and the other half a mixture of cliche, the sentimental is close to the feigned regard of the funeral director: appropriate, and grave, but with one eye on the itemized bill.

Poem of the Week: Wallace Stevens

by Joe Weil Aesthetics
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[Large Red Man Reading]

Terms, Truth, Sun Sparrows: A Very Important Lesson from My Father

by Joe Weil Academia
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I tell my students that education can do the work of evil: it can make a bunch of aleatory systems with PHDs think they have a right to be superior to the Rocky Weils of this world. They can make a son misunderstand the wisdom of his own father. They stink of torture and snobbery, they are rank with the odor of exclusion and bias, and we call this “truth” or “Dogma” or “terminology.”

Poem of the Week: Ai

by Joe Weil Academia
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[Salomé]

The Book Bag

by Joe Weil Memoir
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The weirdest things survive. I lost my parents and some of those friends also died: Eric, who introduced me to vampire comics and Henry Miller novels, his brother Greg who netted the biggest trout I ever caught, Huey who threw a good fast ball, and liked jamming with me on the piano.

Poem of the Week: Etheridge Knight

by Joe Weil Poems of the Week
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[Feeling Fucked Up]

Poem of the Week: Robert Kelly

by Joe Weil Poems of the Week
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[Poem for Easter]

Meditation on Milosz

by Joe Weil Memoir
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We must always be as careful with nostalgia as we are with most forms of vulgarity: it is too close to the whore’s heart, and can be used by politicians to promote a “purity,” an Edenic return that supports the most vile sense of the volk.

Meditation on Marianne Moore

by Joe Weil Poetry and Poetics
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She scares me the way Cordelia scares me–by dint of her absolute integrity.

Writing Without an Idea

by Joe Weil Poetry and Poetics
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I don’t usually have an idea in mind when I begin to write.

Poems and Their Ideas

by Joe Weil Poetry and Poetics
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An idea for a poem is always a competing poem.

Meditation on Apollinaire

by Joe Weil Memoir
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I must describe the physical sensation this poem had on me. It was a hot and humid day, and the house was full of fans whirring, and flies buzzing, and no one was home.

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