Why am I not more pleased
when people send me invitations to read their poetry?
When people just post stuff, I can look
when people send me invitations to read their poetry?
When people just post stuff, I can look
or not look as I please,
but when they tag me it’s like having my contraband seized
at the border—not pleased
but when they tag me it’s like having my contraband seized
at the border—not pleased
to be getting my palm greased
as a gesture of signal kindness from thee.
So I must be abashed and read
as a gesture of signal kindness from thee.
So I must be abashed and read
your smarmy screed, though I
wish I could be relieved
of the painful duty.
God was well-pleased
of the painful duty.
God was well-pleased
with His only begotten Son, we
read,
whom he bore to bleed for us—a signal pity.
But Jesus spoke into our ear:
you don’t have to heed any
unsolicitedwhom he bore to bleed for us—a signal pity.
But Jesus spoke into our ear:
messages, even pretty-please,
unless you’re genuinely pleased
to read.
