“April is the cruelest month,”
A famous poet said
His dreary observation
Keeps repeating in my head

And so it seems appropriate
And somehow, sadly fitting
That April honors poetry
At least from where I’m sitting

That I have had a chance to write
I cheer with great Thanksgiving
But speaking from experience–
It’s sure hard to earn a living

Thus, when you said last Friday
(I found it so exciting)
That I should find a patron
Who could underwrite my writing

Alas, New Yorker editors
Don’t favor poems that rhyme
And folks that pick MacArthurs
Overlooked me one more time

Then to my great astonishment
As if Fate dropped a bomb
Everyone’s a Medici
At Patreon.com

I’ve written very regularly
Both comic and dramatical
I’d welcome, as appropriate
A subsidized sabbatical

Just pledge a couple dollars, friends
And I’ll go live reclusively
Posting brand new content there
That you can view, exclusively

Spring is full of showers
The wet keep getting wetter
But at least for one poor poet
April might get better