The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things; of shoes and ships and sealing wax; of cabbages and kings.
Lewis Carroll is my favorite poet. The Jabberwocky conjours the fantastic imagination in every child. What does mome-rath look like, and how do they outgrabe? I used to be able to rattle of it's entire nonsense from memory, along with several Tolkien rhyme riddles and the better part of Coleridge's Mariner.
Poetry, like all art, is difficult to pin down. Critics and aficionados seek to distance themselves from the pedestrian folk by claiming cerebral superiority... that the subtle enunciations of true art are inaccessible to the uneducated. Yet the same critic cannot discern an unknown Pollock from the flinging spatters of an orangutan better than the flipping of a coin.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Don't rely on Disney. Go read Lewis Carroll today!
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