From Reb Livingston's blog on the Inaugural Poem:
This grotesque pettiness goes back to poets fighting over that tiny crumb of a pie. Poets, forget the fucking pie already! I promise you, it's stale and flavorless. If you ever get a bite, you'll still be as empty as your are now.
As for all this nonsense about this being Poetry's big chance -- um, no it wasn't, it wasn't supposed to be and get over your self-centered, personal profiteering selves. Elizabeth Alexander did not go up there to be a representative of poets. She accepted an invitation, a daunting and frightening honor that I cannot conceive of having the bravery to accept. Putting oneself and one's poem out there, knowing full well the scrutiny both you and your poem will endure, most would shirk. When Alexander took the podium, momentarily paused before she read, when she looked out at that massive (departing) crowd, I wanted nothing more that to jump into my television and give her a hug.
Go to Reb's blog and read the full post. She says exactly how I've been feeling.
She also writes--
*People come to poetry, not the other way around.*
Exactly! The inauguration wasn't a day of recruitment, it was a celebration for the new president. It was not the job of Elizabeth Alexander to find us new readers, a larger audience-- that's our job.