Wasn't this the Best National Poetry Month Ever?

Recent lame scenarios significantly underestimate the kinds of fun I could have with people on the internet if I was motivated to and had the interest in doing something. Look at these poor cartoons for example. Most poets are immune to the cleansing effects of Satire. They cannot tell Ridicule from Praise. I am completely and almost totally self-absorbed. It's always amusing to see that other people think they are on my mind. Are you a taco? Then I am probably not thinking about you. As the saying goes, cluck, I have a boyfriend. And the boyfriend is also me.

Recent events caused me to lose my train of thought, not that I had much of one going on in the first place. National Poetry Month was pretty lame after the first few days. I mean, who is less fun? Guest Bloggers or Guest Twitterers? The Academy of American Poets seems to want to foster poetry, but only if *celebrities* are the ones reading the poetry. Maybe they should change their name to The Academy of American Poems? They don't seem to be so interested in Poets, at least ones that are living. Unless they play guitar.

So now Poetry Marketing can go back into its deep 11 month hibernation while "Poetry Non-Profits" start planning who they will invite to Tweet for them next year. Or if they'll ask Eliza Dushku to read Robert Lowell poems next April. All worthy and attainable goals. But can it be reported back that Poetry is More than a Yearly Meme? That the ball is being moved forward to a day when Poetry is the only Writing Genre left. The Day when our Verse will rule the Literaryverse? And we can all gain the same level of household notoriousness as Household Name Poets Robert Frost and....Emily Dickinson? Walt Whitman? There really aren't that many. We all know what the tallest mountain on earth is. And maybe even the second tallest. But poets have decided to scale like practically the 10th tallest mountain in the world. That won't even get your name on the front page during National Poetry Month.

Believe the paranoid lies if you must. The truth about me and what I can do on the internet is even more scary and more sinister. Thank God I only use my powers for Good, to flush out the crummy intentions just beneath the surface of many poets so that we all might behold and change our ways. I am waiting by the phone for the Vatican to call to say that I've been beatified, just like lame old John Paul. Some saint he was, he wasn't there the night in Boston where I helped the Red Sox win the World Series with ONLY THE POWER OF MY MIND. That was my first miracle. Well, my first miracle was on the night of my prom, but that's seriously another story. I could go on and on about CIA black bag jobs today and USA USA, but really, let's save our tears for when the US starts taking out European Heads of State using only purple lightning. Whose dioxin-poisoning seems pretty lame now? We can invade your Mansion Bunker and not even sprain an ankle.

The problem with National Poetry Month and the "Poetry Non-Profits" who really just want to Foster Poetry is that they not only want to be Rich, they want to be Loved. You gotta pay for love. At least that's what a prostitute once told me when I couldn't find my wallet one night. They also want to be cool! Like, hai kids! We tweet! Kthanxbye! LOL! Really, it is enough to be Rich than be loved or thought of as cool. Cool shrinks faster than parachute pants in the dryer. And Love is always ridiculous. Your body telling you to stay while your mind is like run away! Believe me, your body makes terrible decisions that are only funny for a while. It's better to reign that shit in early before you're living in a trailer park with a douchebag.

If the Academy of American Poets (I spelled that wrong in the cartoon. There's no helpful red line in real life to let me know when I'm misspelling shit) can only gain an audience for poetry by getting Celebrities to read poems, poets are little more than free bloggers to them, ala Huff Post. Patti Smith is a celebrity. She was the only thing resembling a poet at that Celebrities Read Poems at Lincoln Center thing. What does Chip Kidd know about poetry? So zero poets, but lots of B-List celebrities and lots of Poems. That's the kind of bullshit the Academy of American Poets wants to foster. That's what your fundraising dollars go to. Couldn't they have invited the guy who just won the National Book Award or the Poet Laureate of Brooklyn or somebody who was actually a poet to read like one poem between the kid from the Facebook movie and the guy who wrote the book that they made into a movie in which Nicole Kidman had a weird nose and won an Oscar? Pathetic! Shame on anyone who carries their water. Not! One! Poet!

Soon they will find a way to write poems without poets. And you'll be as useless as record store clerks, then, pals. The only way to foster poetry is to foster poets. They'd probably choose to foster boring, interchangeable poets. But if I was a big-name Interchangeable Poet, I'd be mad that they think Fiction Writers are Bigger Celebrities than you. Whose fault is that? Ask your Chancellors. Poets that want to hang out with celebrities for gasp just one magical night! Well, I ain't paying for it. I'd rather flush my money down the toilet than fall for Fundraising Schemes of "Poetry Non-Profits" who are basically poetry.com all over again.