The poet they probably shouldn’t have sent. I watch anime and am sometimes accused of reading books. I'm writing a long gay giant robot story in verse—probably this millennium's best yuri mecha epic poem, through lack of competition.
'Now praise those names on tombs of steel engraved | And toll this rotting country’s countless bells.'
If you're not still carousing, caroling, and awaiting mysterious questing visitors, your government and/or employer are failing you. Aspire to the labour conditions of Arthurian romance.
If this thought makes you wax wroth out of measure, consider withholding your labour by spending twelve years running mad in the woods.
