Have they run out of white poets yet?

If they haven’t, we’ve reason to fret.

Long ago, there was just Billy Shakes –

other white people’s stories he’d take.

But then Ezra looked toward the East

to spice up his post-War can of meat,

said he wanted to bridge East and West

(but it’s shoddy translation, at best).

And then Kenny Rexroth got prize winnings

for translations of Japanese women.

But surprise! It was all a big game

for ol’ Ken to get unearned acclaim.

Then Araki-so-called-Yasasuda

turned out to be Johnson, and you’da

thought that that’d be the end of the story,

but more white poets wanted more glory.

M.D.H. couldn’t get his poems placed,

so he took on Ms. Yi-Fen Chou’s face.

(Not to mention Vanessa and Kenneth –

among recent fuck-ups, they’re the zenith.)

Now along bumbles – what’s his name? Trillin?

Figured it’d been a while, so he’d fill in

for the other old crusty white croutons

who ran out of nice flowers to muse on.

To be fair, Calvin didn’t pretend

to be aught but himself: a sad send-

up of Dr. Seuss decked in his finest

anti-Asian regalia, minus

any interest in speaking to those

who don’t share his tax bracket or clothes.

We thought after Yi-Fen we’d be set

with this shit but I’m willing to bet

soon we’ll find one we still haven’t met.

Have they run out of white poets yet?

#notallwhitepoets

Source