One of Those Afternoons

This past week I've come across at least five publicity pictures of poets posed holding their opened books as if they were lounging around reading them.

I am bothered by this. I won't explain.

I'll say this: I'm reminded of fakies. You know, bra stuffers. I've been told the correct term is "falsies," but I like the sound of fakies. False implies an untruth. It can be difficult to spot false. Fake implies articificialness. Fake is obvious.

Contemporary poets need more photographer pals. For 2005 let's all resolve on keeping up appearances.

I won't elaborate further.