Poetics Council Getting Axe?

I’m disbanding the Poetics Council. I started the thing, I can dissolve it if I see fit. THEY have grown into a disillusioned mass of nasty invective and slurred speech. (My friends might also be my enemies.) And I won’t be publishing verse on this web log, unless it’s stuff that’s already been published other places. Am I the only man left in America? The only poet with sack? This young writer Wayne Cable called me and said he was doing article. “Is this Arturo Collins?” he asked. “Anybody who knows me calls me Skip,” I said. He began to compliment me, and being an egomaniac, I indulged him. He ended up writing in the Trujillo Review that the only real poets left scattered around the world’s prairies are Jim Harrison, August Kleinzahler, and me. Isn’t Seamus Heaney still alive? I said. Ever read “Door into the Dark”? And what does ‘real’ mean? Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?