What if 2% of all poems vanished? How would remaining ones feel? Abandonment? Fearfully beg to be locked in drawers? Expect memorization in case they too disapear?
Would they ruminate about individual versus collective worth? Would there be friction at open mikes, traces of those gone poisoning the air? Would poems go rogue, fragment, toss away their punctuation?
Would poets lose their identity? Demand an international day of mourning? Would essays and monologues feel pressure to pick up the slack?
What about all those obscure words poets use? What is their fate? Would new work be stifled by the knowledge that perhaps 2% of them will vanish?
Let us hope that those missing poems would be in a better place. San Francisco, maybe.
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