A poem I've had bouncing around the cold, cruel world of publication since October 2007, a poem that almost made it into the first publication it was sent to, making the short-list but not making it past the final cut, a poem that was almost published by market number six (a semi-pro market to boot), but didn't manage to make it into print before the magazine went under, has been, after an almost four-month wait, rejected by market number seven.
I know rejections are a part of the game, I know rejections happen, but this just sucks. To be short listed once, only to not make the final cut, and then to be accepted, only to see the forthcoming publication evaporate, is especially cruel. It's certainly discouraging. It makes me feel like my poetry has stalled. This on top of my fairly recent poetry collection woes has made me feel that I've gone as far as I'm going to go with poetry.
Anyone wonder why I've been concentrating on my art lately?
Sent the poem off to market number eight. It doesn't usually take this many tries. This is peculiar. I think it's a good poem, too.
Weird.
Maybe some of my poetry is too dark. Maybe some of my poetry is stirring up some evil things. Maybe I'm starting to suffer the consequences of delving so frequently into the darkness.
Hm...


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