Review of recent National Book Award poetry winners.
Any poem that can't go up in smoke
is not worth being written.
If it's not like bear shit in the woods
it's just a scam.
If it doesn't bring the darkness you'd pay any price not to face
you can't say it's worth the trees that it would fell.
If it doesn't make you regret your life & your 15 shots last Friday night
then it's just a crossword puzzle parlor game.
If it has to rhyme, it's wrong, if it must cohere, it's false,
if it gives you more than one detail, it's only the ego speaking.
If it mourns some childhood memory and wonders why it thinks of it
it just might then be dangerously corrupt.
If it makes your mind go crazy trying to make of it some sense,
then it clearly doesn't have a beating heart.
If it confuses popes and poodles for the fun of it
you can tell it to the king in case he's hiring a new fool.
If it talks about undressing, sucking cocks or licking pussy
it's probably a cover for that killer called a Poet.
If it fails to say the one thing that it started out to do,
if it fails to find a few words that are true,
if it doesn't know of artists, facts or inhumanities,
if it can't say what it means in any acceptable tone of voice,
if it can't even crawl, much less walk, much less dance, much less beat a
rhythm stick,
it just might have a chance
at breathing,
at surviving the first night,
at earning being lifted to oblivion.
