Googling Myself

I am perhaps the 27th most

Famous Richard Epstein and only the 3^rd

Best-known poet with that salubrious

Nom de poesie.  How disheartening, I

Clear on their cantos, they born with a goose

As close at hand as pablum, porpentines

And crows prêt-à-porter.  And some splice genes,

Those better RHEs, the clones with Sir

And MBE and Friend of Man, the rich

And many-Googled.  Some are just mistakes:

Confounded with RHEtoric syllables,

They pass for Baudelaire and silver swans

And anadiplosis—anadiplosis for

The bogus Epsteins, hidden in the stacks

Of South Dakota junior colleges.

Somebody found me yesterday who meant

Me and no other me: he wanted my

Personal appearance at his most grave

Conclusion.  I was one of 49

CCd, but I was all the RHE.

This John Smith will be carried to his last

By 6 John Smiths, strong men on either side,

And none a pasta critic for The Mail

But he: he gets a plot all to himself.

The squirrels will celebrate: see, they will say,

We never needed any special name.