How To Become a Poet

First you will need to hand me your card. You should have a card. Come on, just gimme your card!

There are many ways to become a poet. There is no absolute way to become a poet. I believe this.

Hey, you, siddown. Yeah you buddy! (Index and middle finger pointing at own eyes then addressee.)

Now look out that window. That is what John Ashbery would call Nature’s Filmstrip, and he should know. (Pointing at window.)

But in Alabama, the tusks are looser. Here is a picture of Groucho Marx. He became a poet by accident, he stepped in some vaudville!

Now get out your protracters. No seriously. I’m going to teach you all about the geometry of poetry first, before we jointly go into hysterics.

O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody?

Sorry, sorry. (laughter) OK now look at these pictures. This is how poets dress.

Notice the craftsmanship, the finely cut hemlines. You will all eventually feel this sensual and freely espousable. OK get out your hankies and popcorn, people.

Now this is a city. You must move to it, and circulate. Here is a diagram of the heart, some arteries and ventricles.

Notice how the white blood cells can only interact with the red blood cells under certain well-defined circumstances. If you want to be serious about poetry, you will have to open gmail accounts. Open to page 34 of your gmail accounts.

Now these are trees. Trees are our enemies. When you look at trees you should see only one thing, potential poems.

Now I’m going to hand this picture around. I want you to look at it closely, what do you see? That’s right, a sweaty-toothed madman!

And what does he have on that leash, look at it closely. That’s right, W.H.! It’s a pooch!

And why do we need to know about a pooch? Because when you write a poem, the pooch is what you don’t want to fuck. Don’t fuck the pooch, people!

Now let’s learn about the history of poets. First there was Homer, a righteous dude. He had some 40,000 quadragesimal tattoos, all of ladies.

Who can tell me who this is? Oh sorry, that’s Scarlett Johansen. Anybody hear that album, where she does the Tom Waits covers?

I heard it’s not that bad, actually. Now this is Walt Whitman. He became a wealthy real estate magnate, and founded the Charlotte Hornets.

Here is another, of Emily Dickinson. This was before she became Storm from the X Men. She was still on Kill Rock Stars.

And last but not least, take some time out each day. Look at plants and sexy people. A poet always knows who is sexy, and who is plant!

Now go out there and be poets. Burn like origami in the feverish gloaming! Burn like origami in the feverish gloaming?