Friday, October 01, 2010

This probably means I should make some time for poetry submissions

In my dream I was at a truck stop parking lot, and all my index cards that I keep track of my poetry submissions fell out of their container without me noticing and were scattered by the wind. Strangers kept picking them up, reading the titles out loud, and saying "What is this weird thing?" with a sneer before I grumpily snatched the card out of their hand.


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