Cowboy Poet

My friend – who calls himself a poet even though he doesn’t know what’s meant by terms like ‘stanza’, ‘iambic metre’ and ‘narrative poetry’ – said to me:

“Hell, I’m gonna write and submit a poem so damn suitable that The Beatnik Cowboy will simply have no choice but to publish it! It’s gonna be about Kerouac in the role of a gunslinger riding into town in the Old West, looking for a bed for the night and causing trouble at the local saloon – with Burroughs as the sheriff (I mean, who else but Old Bull Lee?) – and Ginsberg as a rent-boy brothel owner – and the likes of Corso, Snyder and Gysin as wranglers… Maybe I could even do a spin-off Spaghetti Western story about The Ferlinghetti Kid. I tell you, it’s a sure-fire way to get published!”

“I’m afraid it’s the exact opposite,” I replied.