MEET ME HALFWAY

I’ve submitted hundreds of poems to countless editors

and to date

I’ve got three published –

all at once by the same website.


Each rejection comes with a similar note:

You’re good but not quite there

too much like prose

read other poets

please send more.


Any response – even a pass –

is better than

nothing at all,

and for that I am grateful.


But I can’t help but wonder

who’s got the problem –

me or them.


“Read more poetry”

Why?

So I can start to write

like everyone else?

I’ll read more

but only because I want to

not because

I’m interested in

aping someone.


What do they know?

writing either the kind of shit

boring housewives enjoy

or

pretending to be edgy

with

sonnets about booze

and drugs.


Go fuck yourself,

each and every one of you.


I might bend

but I ain’t breaking

and this shit

you’re turning down now

is

exactly

the sort of thing

you’ll call genius

once my work

falls into the hands

of

people who don’t give

two shits about poetry

and just want something

to relate to.


How many famous poets

do you know?

None.

Because they’re all too

concerned

with

keeping a lid on their

tight little scene

to notice

how no one

gives

a

fuck.