John Yohe

from The Poets Inferno [1]

My guide then led me to a field on which
knelt thousands of poets all sucking dick.
‘Behold,’ he said, ‘the poets who all wished

to write poetry for bad politics.’
He pointed to a man licking around
a demon—’That one sold his work to fascists.’

and then I recognized the mighty Pound.
‘But wait,’ I said, ‘I know some of this group!’
Hearing us, they stopped to gather around.

‘Beware,’ said one, ‘the desire to stoop
to publishing in The New Yorker or
through the Best American Poetry hoop—

We thought the Democrats were honest, for
the people, so we spread our talent thick
over their nothingburgers—’ But before

she could continue I turned away sick
and they turned back to sucking centrist dick.

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