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This Year’s Hollywood Roundtable of Poets

I got invited to this year’s Hollywood Round

table of poets.  You know how they decide
who gets to be on these annual artistic
showcases?  So I was so excited.  I quickly

glanced over the list of the other poets
who were going to be at the roundtable.
There was ____________, the Pulitzer
Prize winner I pretend to the few friends

I in reality have as an actual friend.  There
were two of my true poetic heroes, _______ 

and _____________, the latter of whom

is also a gay poet, which makes me happy,

not to be that token, but also has me 
feeling a bit competitive.  Oh, and there
is my former mentor, ___________, to 

whom I basically owe my whole career, 

and with whom I had a serious falling 

out over a decade ago and we have not

spoken since.  I wonder if I should put
in a call beforehand just to clear the

air.  Or maybe the people who put
us together want some intentional
tension.  Our host, _________, how

ever, well, you know how much of a 

weak interviewer they are.  I mean, 

they should at least get another poet 
to moderate, but that’s never how these
things go, is it?  Perhaps a one-on-one

poet-on-poet talk would have been
a better idea for me.  Oh, but there’s
also _________ on the panel, who is
way out on the fringe, a place I always

feel I own.  But then don’t we all?  I’ll
have to work extra hard not to feel
competitive with how far toward or
outside of the margins my work, my

readers exist.  These fantastical thoughts
bloomed like explosions within my head
for the months leading up to the round
table, but the coolest thing happened

once the day arrived.  We all posed so
eloquently and each of us knew with
utter confidence that we were making
just the right responses to each question,

pushing the absolute best advice about,
whatever our intent, and with such keen
focus on the mix of unexpected, super-
accidental readers or fans, the ones

with whom if we were to have a real
conversation there would literally be
a negative vibe, alongside those with
whom we’ve worked our entire lives,

honing relationships so that we have
those few or at least someone who
just gets us.  I hear the ratings were
not so good and that they’re thinking

of eliminating the poetry category
for next year’s roundtables, in which
case, sad as that would be, what a
thing to get to be on the last one ever.