It's pretty astounding.
Now, considering that Rod McKuen is very famous and very rich, I'm sure that it's merely professional jealousy which makes me say that he is one of the very worst writers I've ever had the peculiar awkwardness of reading.
(Let's not even go into his music, I don't think I have enough energy to muster up the indignation and disgust that topic calls for.)
This poem comes from a collection of his called "With Love..." Yes, with an ellipsis on the end. One of these posts will be entirely dedicated to all of the things wrong with this book, in so many many ways. But for now, here's this to give you a taste. (Hint: it's a metaphor.)
In Passing
Rod McKuen
Yesterday,
did you remember how we met?
Today,
do you remember what I said?
Tomorrow,
will you remember how I tasted?
Some have said I taste like almonds.
This is powerful, vivid writing. If you are a twelve-year-old boy. Or have never read anything.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Apples
Rod McKuen
If you like apples
I'll carry home an orchard.
If sky is to your liking
I'll bundle up the skies
of summer
so you'll never need to know
the winter evening any more.
I like the fire
and so I wait for winter nights.
Apples I can take or leave.
Each poem in the volume reads like that - the short lines, the completely arbitrary spacing, the I'm-really-deep-man verbiage. They're sort of like haiku for the mildly developmentally challenged. After a while it became highly entertaining to try to estimate exactly how many seconds it took the man to churn them out.
But if I'm so smart, why aren't I the best-selling and most widely read poet of all time?
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