Michael Gottlieb / Letters to a Middle-Aged Poet / 19


What do you do with all that time?

…if you’ve already written your masterpiece (assuming that is itself a term of art whose validity – that is to say, the morality of the terms and conditions inherent in it – is not something you find entirely absurd, much less abhorrent; in other words, it isn’t a word that impels you to, say, throw up in your mouth when you hear someone else utter it)? How are you supposed to spend the rest of your natural life?

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