The premise here is extraordinarily simple; you think you’re a poet and you most certainly are not.
“Wait just a doggone minute there, Pikey,” you say. “How the hell would you know if I’m any good?”
The answer; when it comes to writing, I know that which is good from that which is bad, and I’m willing to put my reputation as the Ultimate Arbiter of Literary Style on the line.
The rest follows a clear and obvious trajectory. You write. I dismiss you as a neophyte and a buffoon, and the chips fall where they may.
Here’s how it works. You post something you’ve written, I pass judgment on what is sure to be senseless, poorly-constructed dross unworthy of a sixth-grade composition student, and then the readers of this site vote to decide if I eat my words – or you eat yours.
If I’m wrong about your submission (and it is beyond comprehension that I would ever be wrong about such things) I give you a spot on the Youarenotapoet.com staff and start sharing whatever filthy lucre the site may make with you.
Indeed.
This is hardly some boondoggle of the “Publish your work” or “enter our poetry contest” sort. I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is on this score.
Choose any topic you like, write at any length, but above all, heed the warning my mentor, the poet Diane Wakoski, delivered on the first day of her classes to her wide-eyed students:
“Just don’t be boring. There is no greater crime for a poet.”
