4
messy artwork, capricious binding, ephemeral distribution, and negligible sales. Correction fluids of obscure manufacture have yielded ineradicable stains on my pants. Each time I edit proofs it occurs to me that my eye‐sight is finally deteriorating. I am victimized by the continuing fear that the postal rates will increase next month. Gary Snyder says of professions, ʺthere is no other life,ʺ which I think is correct. On the other hand, if alternate proposals are solicited, you can bet I shall not be found speechless. On a starry night I stare upwards in mute amazement and wonder where the big rubber band which holds all this together is?