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Editors of Poetry

I hate the callow ones who think they’re scholars
And have therefore the right to criticize.
I hate the ones who charge me twenty dollars
So I can try to win a ten-buck prize.
 
I hate the ones whom you will irritate
By sending poems two places at one time,
As if a geezer old as I should wait
For months on end to thus avoid this crime.
 
I hate the ones who work from one to three,
Then try to claim they’re buries in submissions.
I hate the ones who get all panicky
When they read something smacking of traditions.
 
But most of all I’ve really had enough
Of bastards who reject my brilliant stuff.

(2006)

Republished by permission of "Iambs and Trochees," Journal V

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