Absurd Review: “The Road from University Circle”

 

Upon first reading, we were concerned that the poem might be a map. Upon second reading, we confirmed that it is not a map, but rather all maps at once, folded into a cereal aisle where every box contains a slightly different version of the self, lightly sweetened with epistemological dust.

The poet opens with duality — “I have always been of two minds.” This is a bold confession, given that most Clevelanders operate with one and sometimes none. The second line immediately clarifies that the theater district is both stage and sermon, and that even Playhouse Square has questions about its own dramaturgy. We suspect the poet once auditioned for Hamlet but was offered a PhD instead.

By stanza three, physics has entered the room, and everyone pretends to understand it. The statement “The physics is simple” is the most terrifying line in the poem, because it implies someone somewhere has done the math and discovered we are all part of a single curved sidewalk. The reviewer who attempted to verify this was last seen circling Euclid Avenue muttering “objectivity is a construct.”

The central cereal passage is the poem’s moral axis. Imagine, indeed, “all the cereal aisles in all the Walmarts.” Imagine walking them, cart squeaking, lost in a kingdom of overproduction. You arrive at the end and realize the Frosted Flakes were prophets, the Cheerios nihilists, and the Rice Krispies have been whispering subatomic truths all along. The image expands the known universe of grocery poetry, outpacing Whitman’s loafing and Ginsberg’s supermarkets entirely.

Later, we encounter a tension between being “well educated” and “doing my own research.” This line struck the committee as both heroic and alarming, like watching Galileo explain the telescope to a YouTube comment section. We sense the poem balancing on the knife-edge between enlightenment and Wi-Fi.

Finally, the poem concludes with self-awareness so acute it could slice through a syllabus:
“I have different voices / I am a conversation.”
This line should be printed on every campus bus, reminding passengers that their inner dialogues are valid modes of public transit.

In conclusion, The Road from University Circle is not a road but a Möbius strip paved with degrees, questions, and late-night revelations. Reading it is like realizing your diploma was written in invisible ink and the only way to read it is to walk the city again, talking to yourself in two minds.

Rating: 4.7 / 5 existential breakfast cereals
Best enjoyed: while pushing a shopping cart uphill toward epistemic freedom.