I want to give a shout out to my ‘bro, Nootch, who helped to make Scarriet’s March Madness a success.  He contacted the actual poets themselves who were selected for the tourney and got tons of positive feedback.

The final order of the invitational tournament was as follows:

  1. Billy Collins….Billy won it all…this guy simply has the best ‘good poem’ percentage of any poet around.  “Composed Over Three Thousand Miles From Tintern Abbey” No surprise he’s on the Scarriet Power List, the Hot 100 at NUMBER NINE!
  2. Reb Livingston took her “That’s Not Butter” and wooed the crowds all the way to No. 2 in the Tournament!
  3. Janet Bowdan and “The Year” which was like the only good poem Rita Dove picked for the 2000 volume…WHAT A FREAKIN’ HAUNTING POEM THIS IS.
  4. William Kulik…Look out for this guy…He’s not on the Hot 100…YET, but this List will change….!  NARCISSUS AND APHRODITE, BABY!
  6. Bernard Welt!!!!  His “why I stopped writing poetry…” sums up our age….ONE OF THE BEST SOUL-SEARCHING MID-TO-LONG POEMS EVER
  7. Lewis Buzbee!  Rumors are swirling that Tarzan was nursing an injury, otherwise “Buzz” Buzbee would have won it all…  GIVE IT TO TARZAN
  8. Margaret Atwood!!!  A poem, “Bored,” of poignant regret…BORED… BUT SO MUCH MORE!!!!   #65 on the Hot 100.
  9. Harry Mathews “Histoire”   PERHAPS THE BEST QUIRKY POEM OF THE 20th CEN
  10. Robert Pinksy  “Pleasure Bay”     PINSKY DESERVES HIS REP WITH THIS POEM ALONE!!  He’s on our HOT 100 List # 11
  11. Brad Leithauser  “A Good List”    WE LOVE LISTS!!!
  12. Dean Young….’The Business of Love is Cruelty…’  now, Dean ‘Forever’ Young knows it’s also the Business of SPORTS which is Cruelty…BEAT AT THE BUZZER BY BUZZ BUZBEE!!!!   But Young is #35 on the Hot 100.
  13. Louis Simpson…”The People Next Door.”   THIS POEM IS A MASTERPIECE
  14. Kenneth Koch…One of the longest poems published by BAP…self-indulgent…maybe…but IT ROCKS….”Time Zone”   !!!!
  15. Franz Wright…the SULTAN OF SINCERITY…”A Happy Thought” gonna make you cry!!!!!  Made the Hot 100 List at #91…
  16. Alan Shapiro singing his Cowboy song….sweet sixteen you can’t go wrong!!!
  17. Donald Justice, “Invitation to A Ghost”  INVITATION TO A GREAT TOURNAMENT!!
  18. Dorianne Laux  “The Shipfitter’s Wife”   Robert Bly picked this gem…it is a gem.
  19. Rebecca Byrkit “The Only Dance There Is”    The Only Dance is March Madness!!!
  20. Susan Wood “Gratification”    Did alright…No. 20 out of 1,500 has to be gratifying…
  21. Jorie Graham  “On Difficulty”   All that controversy about 16th seed faded away when play began and the poets began to sweat…  Jorie is # 18 on the Hot 100
  22. T. Allan Broughton  “The Ballad of the Comely Woman”    Almost an Albrecht Durer poem…just amazing…
  23. Louise Gluck “Time”  Might be her best poem…could have gone further…farther?…oh hell…  This current Yale Younger Judge is #5 on the Hot 100!!!
  24. Carl Dennis  “History”  Like Billy Collins, a fully fleshed-out idea before the poet begins his poem….
  25. Donald Hall  “Letter With No Address”   What can you say about Donald Hall?  Beautiful.
  26. Yusef Komunyakaa  “Facing It”   One of our greatest war poems.
  27. Nathan Whiting  “In Charge”    Knocked off Ashbery!!!  Has John forgiven him yet?
  28. Ron Koertge  “Found”   I’m glad I found this poem…Alligator Shoes…I’ll never forget it.
  29. David Yezzi  “The Call”    Just a wonderful poem…
  30. Vijay Sheshardi  “Lifeline”   This guy writes highly contemplative, intense poetry…
  31. Ted Kooser  “The Hall of Bones”   is going to the HALL OF FAME, BABY!!!!!
  32. A.F Moritz  “April Fool’s Day, Mt. Pleasant Cemetery”  An Updated Gray’s Elegy…
  33. Galway Kinnell  “When One Has Lived A Long Time Alone” was upset in the first round, but this poem will be around a long time.
  34. Sharon Olds  “The Wellspring”   Shooting to the stars…  Did we put her on our Hot 100 list?  We should have…
  35. David Kirby  “Ode to the Personals”  A tour de force, predicted to go far, but tripped up in round no. 1…
  36. James Tate  “Distance From Loved Ones”   Also On Our Hot 100 List!  # 31
  37. May Swenson  “Dummy, 51, To Go To Museum, Ventriloquist Dead, 75”  One of Harold Bloom’s favorite poets…
  38. Denise Levertov  “In California During the Gulf War”  BAP found a lot of good war poems…
  39. Steven Dobyns  “Favorite Iraqi Soldier”
  40. Mary Oliver  “Flare”    On the Hot 100 # 41!   Who came up with these rankings, anyway?
  41. Amit Majmudar “By Accident”
  42. Marc Jafee  “King Of Repetition”  A rare formalist poem…
  43. Seamus Heaney  “Shooting Script”  Hot 100 # 2…Wow…Not much of a BAP force, though…
  44. Jack Turner  “The Plan”
  45. James Richardson “Vectors: Forty Five Aphorisms & Ten Second Essays”
  46. John Brehm  “Sea of Faith”
  47. Julie Larios  “What Bee Did”  The cutest poem in the competition.
  48. Christopher Edgar  “Birthday”
  49. J.D. McClatchy  “Jihad”   Hot 100 #  63
  50. Eve Wood  “Recognition”
  51. Catherine Bowman   “No Sorry”
  52. George Bilgere “Healing”
  53. John Ashbery  “Problem of Anxiety”   Hot 100 #  6  woo hoo!
  54. Mark Bibbins  “Concerning the Land to the South of our Neighbors to the North”
  55. Mark Halliday “The Opaque”
  56. Lucille Clifton “mississippi river empties into the gulf”
  57. Kevin Prufer “What the Paymaster Said”
  58. Lynn Xu  “[Language Exists Because]”
  59. Paul Violi “Counterman”
  60. Brian Turner “What Every Soldier Should Know”
  61. Alan Sullivan  “Divide and Conquer”
  62. Jayne Cortez “Heavy Handed Dance”
  63. Susan Stewart  “Apple”
  64. James Cummings  “Poets March On Washington”   Thanks to the Kennedy Center for hosting Scarriet’s March Madness, and for everyone who made it possible!!


  1. Al Cordle said,

    April 22, 2010 at 6:38 pm

    Did Reb make it into the Hot 100? Because someone needs to keep an eye on her. I’ve said before I really like her publishing model. Then she teased me and then I teased her. I want to be FB friends but am afraid to ask.

    Buzbee was great fun too!

    • thomasbrady said,

      April 22, 2010 at 8:18 pm


      The Hot 100 is so hot it’s molten…it’s ever-changing, so maybe she will…


  2. Bob Tonucci said,

    April 22, 2010 at 8:15 pm

    Wow, I wish I had moves like that — pretty fly for a white guy!

    You know its kinda hard just to get along today
    Our subject isn’t cool, but he thinks it anyway
    He may not have a clue, and he may not have style
    But everything he lacks, well he makes up in denial

    He needs some cool tunes, not just any will suffice
    But they didn’t have Ice Cube so he bought Vanilla Ice
    Now cruising in his Pinto, he sees homies as he pass
    But if he looks twice, they’re gonna kick his lily ass!

    Now he’s getting a tattoo yeah, he’s getting ink done
    He asks for a 13, but they drew a 31
    Friends say he’s trying too hard and he’s not quite hip
    But in his own mind he’s the, he’s the dopest trick

  3. April 23, 2010 at 1:59 am

    That was the month that is, March 2010.

    So much happened in the scenes and distilleries of verbal magic. So many people came and went. All of us here writing and reading, we achieved so little and yet – so much. Across the spectrum in all its back-water of still side-pools and wells in a torrent of up-gushing filíocht, we spoke and spun when dealers of whatever appears in the application that delivers literature and Letters, to us.

    Torqued by ‘technology of the intellect’ rendered compliant, broadcasting
    our quarrel with the self that is Poetry and rhetoric made into a global
    business: our market two to three million: The one percent of everyone alive
    with some level of proficiency with, and in, this English not our
    forebears, rendered compliant by another’s language not their own – ours now, sown within at brutal cost, the thwacking anglo-saxon hammer in Latin,
    full spanned across the spectrum: Language that binds and divides us, the 2
    billion with a smattering of English.

    A two to three hundred million customer potential, is the one percent of ‘us’:
    just being born now – not then – who advantage with this linqua
    franca, universal European rep of a west-world ethic, race-reared
    on the tv technologies by invisible gods, absent ones alive to all but most,
    as what image?

    Ourselves, ‘us’, bored to the bone, bad right through, full time appalled,
    always looking out to knee you in the balls, gnawed, gone to that nothingness
    in the current competitive state of being on a scene so sealed by wearing a
    shirt for self-first ‘me’ and me imaginary anonymous anyone and the unborn
    dead yet to ventriliquze us once the race is run: Us and ‘them’, we’re all
    very much the same, identical in every respect and single aspect of importance – two legs, arms, hands, ear, nose, a container of the lens that is us with consciousness – manifesting energies vibrating into ..this looking phantom visible whole made into our show, with what technology of the intellect we possess.

    Language it is ‘us’ ‘here’ in this space, huddle, self-help symbol and
    support of one another as haters, lovers, rivals and, ultimately – performers.

    What a performance thus far and it only late in April. There’s plenty of
    time for us to start a row, have a big scene swapping letters of outrage and
    taking issue, agreement, smoothing the way for a read-through at the
    recital, advertising in this corner where sophistication haunts the very
    walls and doors, drains and bridges, all you need is stuff, stuff, stuff –
    stuff is all you need,

    yeah yeah yeah.

    Party time is nearly upon us, and i was just gonna ask if y’all wanna
    Summer do, for the favourite few of you who I respect as mental patients in
    therapy here, where it’s all so very very experimental, hey, dearest
    deserters from the one wrong till, tallying it all so very forward edged, so
    very worthwhile and not a little inexpensive, if such a scene exists – where
    is it now, please, if not right here now, right now, dearest darling sheeple weeders?


    Take no notice of my lunacy – tis been a strange month. The Septmeber before last, i imagined to have hit ollamh, but with the conscious and unconscious realm divided by quarterly periods and moon-cycles, the quarrel within with Self, though we cross rubicons and arrive at platforms where the life-long light of Learning first came on, in the early part of the year it was before an ollamh woke first to consciousness, after the six month catch up: Though I guessed it in Spetember, it was only an intuitive knowing, this latest in the guessing game of hocus pocus and supernatural business end of what it is, the quarrel within our own Self, the technology of intellect and soul, both processes self-wrought and the ironing van staple to heart and head, of a mass of many things that is, everything perhaps, in that binary focus the knowing-ones were taught in the School whose lives within the annals as blue-print and how-to guide, reside for us in the guild of verbal magicians being oh so very forward edged, guessing what will come before it happens, being a magician in print, keeping the eye fixed on what quarrel’s outpouring from within, reflection of the universe, olfactory ‘n aural, sight and speech, hear that sound anew, the new sound system for poetic belief, from the regular poetry ecetera members, keeping it real teacher, spreading belief and oh so very forwardly exciting, ready to back each other up when our reputation’s discussed behind open citadel doors, scurrying across to what chief knowers instruct us to make, luvvie luvvie.

    Crazy times.

    Desmond Swords Normal Illinois.

  4. Bob Tonucci said,

    April 23, 2010 at 11:38 am

    You’ve always taken life in massive doses
    Back when you were a child they said you were precocious
    You were always doing something that you shouldn’t ought to do
    And you never did the things that were expected of you

    In school you were a troublemaker, always getting caught
    Staying up on all the things the teachers never taught
    Well you’ve got a lot of nerve, acting up the way you do
    Something’s going to bring a lot of shame on you

    Shame on you, shame on you

    Man, you could have had power and a hot position
    Like a hotshot lawyer or a bigshot politician
    You could have been the head of a major corporation
    Instead you’re working part time at a filling station

    Doing comedy on the side — you’re really quite funny
    But dude, don’t you know you could be making big money?
    Shame on you — you haven’t got a dime
    Shame on you — for having such a good time
    Shame on you — you’re a disgrace to everyone
    Shame on you — you’re having too much fun

    Shame on me, shame on me

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