Mr. William Blake,
What the hell is this?
Did you paint these "poems"?
What do you have against typography?
Good luck printing this "poetry" on your own.
Tiger, tiger, whatever.
Mr. Walt Whitman,
We are very sorry but we see that your new book
Leaves of Grass was self-published,
so we can’t really put much value on it. Also, the lines are much too long
to be considered real poetry. Regrets.
Miss Emily Dickinson,
You have shown reckless disregard
of your destiny as an official poet
by not finding publication opportunities.
Your poetry must be unpublishable.
Do yourself a favor and stop writing poetry.
Enjoy your snug life in Amherst.
I hear the winters are cold and unlovely.
Mr. Enoch Soames,
We simply loved your poetry manuscript.
It is quite unlike anything we have ever seen.
We are proud to announce to you today
that Fungoids will be featured in our fall list.
Congratulations on this august publication.