Saturday, July 2, 2011


I have a choice: when I look at the walls and walls full of anthologies which present selections of contemporary USA poetry (USAPO for short),

when I think of the hundreds of USAPO anthologies published over the past 30 or so years,

and when I reflect that my verse appears in almost none of them,

I have a choice:

A, I can say all those editors excluded my work because I have been (and continue to be) blacklisted by the USAPO-Biz power centers—


B, I can say that all those editors excluded my work because it is unworthy of being anthologized—

so which do I choose to say to myself:

A or B?

If it's A, I'm a paranoid;

if it's B, I'm a failure:

B means my poetry is worthless, my lifetime of effort has been in vain, and indeed I should stop trying to write, stop publishing my junkverse, I should go away somewhere and shoot myself or at least cease and desist from ever showing my wretchwords in any venue,

including my blogs . . .

So either I'm crazy, or I'm a failure.