a grouse with completely feathered feet


Meanwhile, while the readership for poetry, rather than actually buying poetry, is forced to spend lots of money on the arbitrary right to have a manuscript recycled for the small fee of $30. And the rest of America lurches towards its own self-modulated variable penny dreadfuls. Note: There are no poets in these market segmentations. They don't "count." Rather than channeling their (small amounts of) capital into worthwhile, (even slightly) transformative enterprises, the poetry reader/writership embroils itself in a babylonian lottery--all for the right of having your book, in the end, poorly distributed and read by no one!

Christ, model rocketry organizations have their shit together more than this loose confederation of crony capitalists disguised as tenured cyborgs. Crumb-greed disguised as roccoco gallantry and aesthetics. "The soi-distant Avant-Gardist builds a pyramid scheme, a last ditch pitch to the lure of Empire." (Jennifer Moxley)

Seems we have enough problems on our hands with imperialsm these days. So, o poetry presses large and small, please don't add your eyedropper of kerosene to the fire that has already consumed most of your eschatological warehouses. Thanks!


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