. . . Mr. Tweedledum?
Here.
Ms. Verbose?
Here.
Mr. Zeus?
Here.
Good morning. I am Professor Pooff.
Welcome to English 113X:
Deepness In the Depths of Poetic Depthosity.
Some rivers course broad and shallow,
our river runneth narrow and deep.
Deeper than the grandest canyon,
deeper than the deepest ocean trench,
more powerful than a locomotive.
We will shroud our minds in mental bathyscaphes as we explore for the hidden meanings in each word, nay! in each letter of each word of each poem in our book.
My office hours are from 5:15 to 5:25 a.m., MWF, or by appointment.
We will not waste any time.
Turn to page 5682 in your
“Norton’s Complete Anthology of Everything Under the Sun.”
We’re going to start with the work of an obscure medieval American poet: Horatio Hubert.
There are two things to look for as we read:
depth and deepness.
I think you can clearly see the distinction.
Deepness deals with depthosity,
whereas depth is more concerned with hidden infrastructure known as literary substructurismical structurement of the structurosity.
True structurization is achieved only when deepness is applied to the object in question.
Let us begin.
“Twas brillig and the slithy toves…”
Now, what does this evoke? Ms. Capillary?
Well, to me it has an optimistic brightness in the first two words contrasting with a pseudo-Marxian-Freudian-Platonic-Serlingian anti-Christ counter-hero epitomized by the last two words.
Excellent. That gives us the deepness perspective. Mr. Mustard, would you please comment from the point of a depthist?
I could see the conflict between brillig and the toves alluded to Shakespeare. In “That’s About It”, Act III, Scene II, we find Vegas confessing to Reno her secret love for Casino as they have their parting caress in the courtyard of Caesar’s palace.
Very observant! Mr. Tweedledum, would you care to comment?
Uh, uh, sure!
I just thought it was a neat sentence.
It sounds good when it goes into my ears.
It goes in my ears and my mouth begins to smile.
My mouth begins to smile and my toes begin to tap.
My toes begin to tap and my feet begin to dance.
I see. That’s pretty pathetic analysis, Mr. Tweedledum.
I’m sorry.
I don’t think I want you in this class.
I’m sorry.
Class dismissed!