That's how it rolls in literary poetry L.A.

I'm going to run through a few red lights with this post. Here goes.....

Earlier tonight, I sat through a featured reading by an overly pretentious, forgettable literary poet (who, to be fair, had one tolerable poem referencing Edward Hopper paintings) at a L.A.-area venue. The literary poet has some cachet in this region because he edits a literary magazine (or should I say, "journal") and has a new book published by an L.A.-based prestige small press named after a barnyard animal.

The reading itself, like about three other readings in the LA/OC area, is now modeled after a long-dead but still influential poetry series that was named after a certain kind of flower.

What can I say about literary poetry when it exists more to ooh-ah-awe and attract looking-for-Pushcart-Prize-consideration players in the "community" than to edify or satisfy poets/civilians who may not be breathlessly fascinated by the poet's self-proclaimed academic brilliance and/or his publication/website?

[Sidebar: An article by Brendan Bernhard about poetry in L.A. in the LA WEEKLY a decade ago--besides offending certain community majordomos upset about not being Recognized by Bernhard--had a priceless quote from someone (perhaps a bookseller) that described literary poets as "people in academia writing for each other."]

At this point, I realize I'm going to attract potential criticism for criticizing a poet (something I'd be tut-tutted about--and then forbidden to do--on at least one local poetry listserve) after having been chastised recently for not being "ambitious" enough.

Sorry, but there's also a danger to the health of poetry as a whole when poets and hosts bend over backwards to fawn over too-self-satisfied, please-my-professor-at-university, deadly-dull-but-au-courant verse that's drier than the deodorizer I put inside my cats' litter boxes three times a week.

I'll end this with a cautionary anecdote: Emily Dickinson showed her work to a Major Publisher of her day. She was considered "not good enough" and her poetry didn't really surface en masse until after her death.

It's safe to say Emily Dickinson will be read for a few centuries more than the Influential Poet/Editor I was bored, irritated and deeply depressed by tonight.