02-01-2015, 03:50 PM
There was this poet I knew who spent each Saturday and most of Sunday and many evenings
writing 30% of the time and submitting 70% and she got published many times and got 2 books
published which sold almost 100 and 150 copies and then she died and her daughter didn't know
where to send her stuff and I recommended a poet I knew and then he died and his brother threw
it all out and I just found this out but if he hadn't I would have taken it and when I died it would
be sitting in boxes in the attic and my brother wouldn't know what the fuck to do with it.
writing 30% of the time and submitting 70% and she got published many times and got 2 books
published which sold almost 100 and 150 copies and then she died and her daughter didn't know
where to send her stuff and I recommended a poet I knew and then he died and his brother threw
it all out and I just found this out but if he hadn't I would have taken it and when I died it would
be sitting in boxes in the attic and my brother wouldn't know what the fuck to do with it.
all this useless beauty... but what the hell, why not?