The Iceburg Theory

all the food critics hate iceburg lettuce.

you'd think romaine was descended from

orpheus's laurel wreath,

you'd think raw spinach had all the nutritional

benefits attributed to it by popeye,

not to mention aesthetic subtleties worthy of

verlaine and debussy.

they'll even salivate over chopped red cabbage

just to disparage poor old mr. iceburg lettuce.

I guess the problem is

it's just too common for them.

it doesn't matter that it tastes good,

has a satisfying crunchy texture,

holds its freshness,

and has crevices for the dressing,

whereas the darker, leafier varieties are often bitter, gritty, and flat.

it just isn't different enough, and

it's too goddamn american.

of course a critic has to criticize:

a critic has to have something to say.

perhaps that's why literary critics

purport to find interesting

so much contemporary poetry

that just bores the shit out of me.

at any rate, I really enjoy a salad

with plenty of chunky iceburg lettuce,

the more the merrier,

drenched in an italian or roquefort dressing.

and the poems I enjoy are those I don't have

to pretend that I'm enjoying.

-- Gerald Locklin

Iceburg Theory

Word.