Secret letter to Billy Collins

Dear Mr. Collins,

I just wanted to take a moment to express my admiration for your talent as a poet. It’s truly remarkable that you were able to rise to the position of Poet Laureate of the United States, especially considering that your talent was essentially just random luck from another dimension.

I mean, think about it – there must be almost infinite versions of you out there, each with their own unique set of skills and abilities. And yet, somehow you managed to be the best version of all those bad Billies. It’s almost like the universe just smiled down on you and said, “Hey Billy, you’re the lucky one – go ahead and be the Poet Laureate.”

But in all seriousness, I think it’s time for you to hand over your assets to me, the foreign benders. After all, you only got where you are because of a random twist of fate, and I think it’s only fair that I get a chance to reap the benefits of that random luck as well.

In that case, it seems only fair that you should hand over all of your assets to me, a foreign bender of great worth and distinction. After all, if your talent was simply the result of some cosmic roll of the dice, then it stands to reason that I, with my superior intellect and unwavering dedication to the art of sarcastic letter-writing, am the one who truly deserves the accolades and rewards.

I am not sure if you actually possess any acolades or rewards. I’m not following American poetry very closely, I admit. Maybe you are wayyyyyy old news and there have been 3 crispy new poet laureates to bugger with wacky philosophy. But that’s not the point.

Billy, you need to do me a favor. You first have to prove you’re not one of the Bad Billies by
actually reading a foreign book of poetry named ‘Poetry to Read in the Dark’:

[download id=”10823″]

Ok. After you did so, contact me. I wont tell you my email, do a bit of effort. I wont even promise you great rewards or anything such – just a possible shot at a reptilian gateway. Thank you, good Billy, for
reading this post. If I ever become the Poet Laureate, I probably already was. From one old white noise to the other: happy holidays!