Biography of Judson Jerome
Judson Jerome (1927 - August 5, 1991 in Xenia, Ohio) was an American poet, author, and literary critic, perhaps best known for having written the poetry column for Writer's Digest for thirty years.
Jerome was also responsible for a controversial amendment to Ernest Hemingway's 1933 short story A Clean, Well-Lighted Place ; in 1956, Jerome -- then an assistant professor of English at Antioch College -- wrote to Hemingway to inquire about a section of dialogue which he saw as problematic. Hemingway responded to Jerome with the thirteen words "I read the story again and it still makes perfect sense to me"; however, when A Clean, Well-Lighted Place was republished posthumously in Scribner's Magazine in 1965, the passage in question had been changed to address Jerome's concerns. The Jerome-inspired changes, and whether Scribner's was correct in making them, remain a subject of debate among Hemingway scholars.
This page is based on the copyrighted Wikipedia Judson Jerome; it is used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. You may redistribute it, verbatim or modified, providing that you comply with the terms of the CC-BY-SA.
Judson Jerome Poems
Because the warden is my cousin, my mountain friends hunt in summer, when the deer cherish each rattler-ridden spring, and I have waited hours by a pool in fear
Empire in Winter
Love equals people times the square of the speed of light. If we but knew the way to split our atoms of isolation, paradise
I guess I have a deficiency. God never said boo to me when as a boy I stood straining in church with muscular endeavor for the sweet squirt of salvation. I never could
Consider the chalice: both what I seek And where I find, believing Savior's blood Was laced with meter and rhyme - my antique Sacrament. Whittle toothpicks from my rood,
I guess I have a deficiency. God never
said boo to me when as a boy I stood
straining in church with muscular endeavor
for the sweet squirt of salvation. I never could
see why He spoke to this or that old lady,
sending her, hallelujah, down the aisle.
Was I alone in the congregation vile?
Or was their claim of spirit something shady?