We need to see the TRUE ERROR
INKTOBER 2022 REQUEST #24
===
Here he is.
True Error.
In his original self.
:)
===
Inktober Requests (Open until October 30th, 2022)
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from France

seen from Germany

seen from Greece
seen from United States
We need to see the TRUE ERROR
INKTOBER 2022 REQUEST #24
===
Here he is.
True Error.
In his original self.
:)
===
Inktober Requests (Open until October 30th, 2022)
Them lady poets must not marry, pal. Miss Dickinson–fancy in Amherst bedding hér. Fancy a lark with Sappho, a tumble in the bushes with Miss Moore, a spoon with Emily, while Charlotte glare. Miss Bishop’s too noble-O. That was the lot. And two of them are here as yet, and—and: Sylvia Plath is not. She—she her credentials has handed in, leaving alone two tots and widower to what he makes of it— surviving guy, & when Tolstoy’s pathetic widow doing her whung (after them decades of marriage) & kids, she decided he was queer & loving his agent. Wherefore he rush off, leaving two journals, & die. It is a true error to marry with poets or to be by them.
John Berryman, '187' (from The Dream Songs)