Greatest Living Poet

* The New York Times Book Review has lately been the place for the most idiotic statements about poetry available (Remember also Elizabeth Bishop is the *best* artist *in any art form* in the last part of the 20th Century, etc). Here's a nugget from Brad Leithauser's exploding orgasm over Seamus Heaney's new (pointless) volume which I think is called I Shop at Restoration Hardware for Weird Tools I Can Mention in My Precious Rhymy Nonsense:

"I sometimes think there's no more reliable way of initially entering a poet's private domain than by examining what he or she rhymes with what."

How about Leithauser and Fartyschnauzer? Go write another verse novel, you goddamned dope. This dog wants to eat your balls.