It’s never been about gates or gatekeepers. I never imagined I’d be one of those cozy poets ensconced and installed in some ivory tower position, confronted with students obliged to respect my institutional authority. I knew that road was crumbling even before I gave myself over to poetry.

I’ve been called a crank, a cynic, a failed dreamer. I’ve been accused of being bitter and of being a fake.

But this poetry business isn’t for the thin-skinned. I know I have a lot to offer, but I also know that if I wanted position and institutional authority, I should have abandoned poetry decades ago. Maybe I’ll end up teaching a workshop again someday. I hope I do. But I’m not in this for the short term accolades. I have ambitions that most are so scared of they lie to themselves and call them impossible.