I want to say this right on Main Street. I don't care for poets very much. As a group I never really have liked them and always felt leery about self-identifying as one. No group has ever proven to be more less deservingly self-important, pompous, and completely oblivious to their jackass nature than the poets I have met in this lifetime. On my Facebook feed I only have a few, and I don't like them.
National Poetry Month? More like National Asshole Month. I've never met a group of people less cognizant of the fact that you have to support your own genre. But not poets. Every single person on planet Earth who ever wrote a poem immediately seems to get a sense that they are exempt from supporting another poet or buying a godamn book. Read a book. Please. I get dozens of poetry submissions a month at the two literary reviews I edit, and it's clear they haven't read the guidelines, and why should they, they're poets.
I will say through careful editorship I pick out a lot of gems and am happy to publish them, but poets wouldn't survive on a planet as bountiful as Earth if there were no non-poets around. They just wouldn't know how. They would be incapable of learning the lesson that just because you wrote a poem once it doesn't make you exempt from every fucking rule of decency that applies to every other human on the planet.
I stopped submitting poetry over twenty years ago and have self-published my work since then. Over the past few years I have begun publishing the poetry of others, at my own expense, because I just can't seem to kick the habit. I may love poetry, but that doesn't mean I have to associate with poets. And I don't. I have friends who are musicians, visual artists, graphic designers, and a few who actually do something useful for a living, and none of them have this aura of arrogance I can get from the worst poet on the planet in five seconds. What the fuck do you fuckers think you ever did that entitled you to be such jerkoffs?
Anyway, Cubs lost today. Sent the latest Zombie Logic Press book to the printers today. At least I think I did. It seems to have disappeared into that Friday afternoon vacuum one encounters when dealing with creative types. None the less I'm in no hurry so I'll just send them a polite email Sunday night saying they received it and no way I'm waking up early on Monday morning to verify that.
This book should lose me a few hundred more dollars of food money I don't have and earn complete indifference from the poetic community. I tried to market our last two books to non writers, with some success, but no one hates poetry less than non poets, so there's really no where to turn in terms of finding an audience.
I'll just eat the ramen noodles until the next one. You're welcome and thanks for nothing.