When writing verse I’m not a heavy hitter,
Yet lately my adventures in haiku
Without acknowledgement turned up on Twitter,
And now I wonder what on earth to do.
My estimable agent tweeted first,
Remembering to name me when she did—
In vibrant social networks she’s immersed.
Re-tweeted thence, and spreading through the grid,
An editor it reached at The New Yorker,
Who, clearly tickled, thought it worth quotation,
Became effectively my umpteenth hawker.
That missing verse’s latest infiltration—
It’s mine, some terrible mistakes despite—
Is through the editor-in-chief, Die Zeit!
Without acknowledgement turned up on Twitter,
And now I wonder what on earth to do.
My estimable agent tweeted first,
Remembering to name me when she did—
In vibrant social networks she’s immersed.
Re-tweeted thence, and spreading through the grid,
An editor it reached at The New Yorker,
Who, clearly tickled, thought it worth quotation,
Became effectively my umpteenth hawker.
That missing verse’s latest infiltration—
It’s mine, some terrible mistakes despite—
Is through the editor-in-chief, Die Zeit!
Oh. That was me. I tweeted it. Did I transgress?
ReplyDeleteNot at all, I'm enormously flattered by the Twitterfest. It really did reach the editor-in-chief of Die Zeit, and no doubt many other organs. One is told that this is good.
ReplyDelete