You're so run-of-the-mill,
Your art lacks
authenticity. You're a hack, a jack-
of-all trades; master of the prosaic.
Why do you have to be so
lah-di-dah? so whoop-di-do,
so cliche, so 18th century,
I'll bet you still read Milton.
Aren't you done with Donne
yet? What did you do with the Leaves of Grass
I sent you? The shipping cost me
Do not expect further criticism
or correspondence from me;
I have flies and corpses to address
and Whitman and I can't be bothered
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.