So, anyway: pirates or ninjas? And can you make a poem about it? If so, you might want to send it to Painted Bride Quarterly.
UPDATE: Tony wrote a ninja/pirate poem! Finally, proof that someone reads this blog! Or that my telepathic powers are increasing! Hooray!
The only other books of THEORY I have, other than this recalcitrant one, are Wallace Stevens' "The Necessary Angel" and Pound's "ABCs of Reading." The latter, of course, is hilarious, if only because Pound was so wonderfully full of himself. He goes in the Triumvirate of the Mystic Persona Poets, the asshole partner to Whitman and Ginsberg, who were also larger than life poets of America and Everything. Pound was an ass, but he was an ass unto himself, and lived however he did please. Even in St. Elizabeth's, which probably should have been renamed Ezra's Bordello while he was in residence.
Pound's a testy-making subject these days, but I want to know, apart from whether you should or shouldn't read Pound, do you? I've only read some fairly heavily anthologized work, and the ABCs. I was under the impression that the majority of the Cantos were incomprehensible, and that the best thing you could do was look at Homage to Sextus Propertius, and call it a night. But what do I know? Charles Simic had a bit to say about Pound in the NY Review of Books last year. I'm pretty under-read as a whole, but I've never felt keenly the lack of Pound. Perhaps I just don't know what I'm missing. Or not. Or what.
The Superman Bitch Session Poems
It's BS, all that Caped Crusader, Dark Knight stuff. Hello, other people's parents are dead. And hey, guess what? My whole planet's gone, too. And the powers, oh yeah, he doesn't have any real powers; that makes him so cool. Newsflash: he's got the only power that matters on this pissant blue marble: money. Up the wazzoo. He's just Lex Luthor, but with less laughs. And seriously: the guy needs a tan.
At least I've got Metropolis sewn up. It's always sunny here; we've got a way better climate than Gotham, and I work for a living. I can be proud. But when I catch Lois sneaking a peak at the Gotham News and making noise about a transfer, not even my X-ray vision can calm me down.
Went home to Smallville for a break. I can always count on mom and dad, honest farm folk. They put things in perspective. But this morning, mom said maybe I should think about wearing something darker: the primary colors are just a little too . . . well, flashy, don't you think, Clark? This season is all about a more sophisticated look, something sleeker, more urban. I asked her where all these ideas were coming from, and you know what? Trading Spaces, my ass.
He never shows up. Can't even bother to be civil. Thinks a night off for champagne and a little canoodling with Wonder Woman is frivolity. If he thinks the annual awards show is so uncool, I wonder why he bothers always writing such a lengthy freaking RSVP-and-you-guys-can-blow-me message.
If I send a PayPal donation to the Joker's legal defense fund, does that make me a terrorist?
Scratch that last one. Sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking. Case in point: used superspeed to turn the earth back, reversing the course of time to six p.m. last Sunday, just before 60 Minutes' broadcast of its profile of MC Broodypants. And sort of, you know, caused a nationwide power outage. What can you do, really? I'm starting to see where Lex is coming from and that wigs me. I need to calm down, get back on track. Time for a trip to the Fortress of Solitude: I mean, that's kind of cool, right? Fortress of Solitude? Cool holograms from a destroyed planet? Interplanetary zoo? He totally doesn't have an interplanetary zoo. I own that one. Yeah.
am I so much more sensitive than everybody else ?
do I feel things so much more acutely than them,
and understand so much more.
I bet I'm the first person who's ever felt as rotten as this.
could it be
that I'm going to grow up
to be a great poet and thinker, and all those other wankers in my
class are going to have to work in factories or go on the dole?
yes, I think it could.
Going to work this week on getting out some new submissions. Now that I have two (count 'em, two) actual, real-world acceptances under my belt, I feel better about the whole submission game. I also feel, though, that maybe I should leave my poems to set a bit longer before submitting them: the ones getting accepted are also the ones that were oldest at the time I sent them off. They were fully cooled and formed at the time of sending. But, oh, well. Hasn't really been long enough for me to see if the newer poems will garner similar acceptances. We'll wait another month or so and see what my success rate is with those.
At Shafer's invitation, I'll also be hawking copies of Novelty Act at the Frequency Series this next Sunday. Strangely, I am a diffident and shy presence in the legal community, but I'm perfectly prepared to be a schmoozer and marketer extraordinaire among poets. Ha!