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What I Do with My Rejection Letters Upon reading the form opening that means I’m in trouble, I begin to unbuckle the belt on my cargo shorts. That’s where all the underwear selfies come from. As the editors go through how my poetry is just not right for them at this time, I begin to wiggle out of my pants until they are around my calves and down to my ankles. I stand up to announce my latest rejection letter to the cute young librarians at the small branch near the Pacific ocean that I now frequent, and I hand my trousers over to the librarian I’ve got the biggest crush on and then I read them some of the rejected poems in my boxers, and they all agree that with a little revision, those poems could be stand-out gems in a small journal of renown, and that’s when the lady at the front desk starts laughing to inform me that my poetry indeed stinks, but she bought a copy of my chapbook anyway just in case I get arrested or become famous for something more ridiculous than spending my hours pining over librarians, reading my sloppy poetry until those spoken-for ladies of the Dewey Decimal sisterhood must lock me out with a kiss on the cheek and a prayer that I’ll finally get a job.

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Profile for Mojave River Media

Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019  

The Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019 issue spotlights superb poetry and prose by brilliant contributors from around the globe. Enjoy 2...

Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019  

The Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019 issue spotlights superb poetry and prose by brilliant contributors from around the globe. Enjoy 2...

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