Chuck Berry and the Nobel Prize

Now that poets are forced to live in the age of hypercriticality, where the winners deplore the losers and the losers detest the winners, can there be any poetry written whose sole purpose is praise? By praise, I don't mean that a poet needs to say that something is exclusively good or needs to find only the good in something, but that poetry needs to turn something that's both good and bad inside out with words so that it becomes an object itself, one that stands on its own two feet with the intention of singing.

Saul Bellow, novelist, true believer in the American dream, wrote a beautiful novel about an American poet, Humboldt's Gift, in which a sort of conclusion is reached, to the best of my memory, that poetry is indeed the highest kind of praise.

What is praise? The form of truth--the truth of thinking something through so thoroughly that it can finally be also understood emotionally--expressed in song. 

Too often these days I wake up with the thought, something's wrong. A bird may be singing right outside my window, but do I hear it? No!

Just this morning I wondered what benefit might come to me if instead of thinking that Chuck Berry should have won the Nobel Prize rather than Bob Dylan, as I do think, that it would be better for me to to see the good in Bob Dylan winning the prize rather than the injustice.