Why Won't Jeremy Reed Play Nice?

There are certain poets that are favored by the Great British institutions of inclusion. They rub flanks with one another in a shared byre, where their egos are massaged daily. They are fed beer and, if they are particularly complicit, a butt of sherry sack. Editors salivate at the mere thought of receiving their tender, fatty off cuts. And as a gesture of their worth to the masses, they are occasionally led out into schools, where their philosophic lowing has been known to send small children to sleep.