A Question about Poets and Poetry.

I think the pretentious remark was just an off the cuff smart-ass comment, i.e. humor.  No big deal.

so now, suppose this workshop is an ideal, well-equipped operatating room, with all the latest scalpels and everything.  Even the machine that goes *bing*.  You're laying on the table when this guy comes in wearing a nice crisp new surgical gown and he can't wait to pick up his tools and get to work on your liver, or pancreas, or something equally vital.  Of course, he's never done this before, but he has lots of enthusiasm and is willing to try anything.  Now, when he's finished cutting you up to his heart's content, is he a surgeon, a shitty surgeon, or just a run of the mill gruesome murderer?