Welcome to Wobegon’s Post-Katrina University, where all the men are good-looking, all the women are intelligent, and all the players are injured.  All the veterans are decorated, and each decoration consists of something more than a purple heart. Axé.

My banner picture was taken in Chichicastenango, Guatemala, the most touristy town in El Quiché, but I was on my way to Nebaj, from whence I went walking in the Ixil Triangle. I did not get as far as Uspantán, true Rigoberta Menchú territory, but I did find Chajul, where her brother was burned (or … More Caminos para cantar

Having just written a long response to a question on a post about writing and academia, it occurs to me that I might mention some of my tales of culture shock upon entering the professoriate. I always thought that by being an academic in the humanities, and in humanities fields oriented towards cultures other than … More Heart of Amerika

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio, et excrucior. These are the things I dislike about being a professor: 1. having to live in prim towns in the heart of Amerika; 2. the lack of actual intellectual and creative life; 3. careerism; 4. passive agression, which passes for ‘professionalism’ but … More Catullus 85

I am still looking for a really good English translation, perhaps Dryden’s, of Horace’s second ode from Book III of the Odes. I seek this, of course, as background to Wilfred Owen’s realistic war poem. I have found this translation, which is adequate, though dull, this one, which I like better, and this one, which … More Quintus Horatius Flaccus

Veteran’s Day celebrates the November 11 Armistice, which ended World War I. Wilfred Owen was killed in battle a week before the Armistice, when he was 25. He had by then already written this, referring to the poem by Horace. DULCE ET DECORUM EST Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, … More Wilfred Owen

Today’s recommended post is Momo’s, on the background of Robert Gates. In honor of places devastated by people still connected with the U.S. government, and by several former U.S. governments as well, we need some poems. Salomón de la Selva was from León, Nicaragua, where I went last year. He wrote these poems in English, … More Tropical Town

I The missteps I have made in life, have caused me to meet certain people I would not have met otherwise. This is something I would not like to trade away. One of my students has had some life problems lately, and she is moving to where the wind does not blow so cold through … More Une belle fête

At the end of the wee hours… Beat it, I said to him, you cop, you lousy pig, beat it, I detest the flunkies of order and the cockchafers of hope. Beat it, evil grigri, you bedbug of a petty monk. Then I turned toward paradises lost for him and his kin, calmer than the … More Va-t’en mauvais gris-gris

I have been working all weekend. When I work, I get headaches, because for the last fifteen years I have been unable to work without also hearing in my mind my father’s voice, speaking in loud tones to me about how I should work. If I am to work at all, I must work through … More Loud Voice