you're telling me there are two widely published white poets named matthew and michael dickman who have been in the new yorker 9 and 11 times respectively and are twin brothers

is american poetry a telenovela

matthew has a poem that starts off lusting after ankles and does a lustful tour of a woman's body including "armpits like beehives" and ends with "darling, your my President"

so

come on man

sorry it cut an important line

"I have my tackle and tackle box."

for her back, which is a river of fish, you know

speaking of sheets may we now turn to michael who is a bit more refined

"you can’t call anyone from this phone can you?
the room smells like lo mein
the sheets on the bed are God"

on brief review michael is the somewhat more interesting poet of the dickmans but then michael is the one with the ??? probably racist definitely entitled and careless 30 page poem in Poetry

ahh, I see

no, you do not need to repeat the racist words of your white grandparents in a poem in 2020

they are not interesting to anyone but you

oh to be twin white brother poets for whom "there is no money in poetry" is laughably incorrect

dwelling on it as a window into how intractable things remain

they probably make more launching a book at princeton than most poets make in years

michael, I really cannot with you

https://twitter.com/toshines/status/1276620797763878913?s=21 https://twitter.com/toshines/status/1276620797763878913