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Dear Frank,
I am the poet who wrote the poem that begins, “Fuck the poets of the past, my friends…” (Its title is “Afterthought.”) My former student published it on Postsecret years ago and it has spread to people in distant places, unknown to me until two years ago, when a woman somehow found me and told me that the poem had help her too.
I saw it posted in Germany a few years ago. So cool. Every couple years somebody writes to me too. One woman sent me two pies once and thanked me for saving her life. Apple and blueberry, crushed in the mail, but I loved every bit.
I was trying to help a few students in one small poetry class on Long Island when I shared that poem with them and today I was notified that it is a Postsecret Classic. You cannot imagine how grateful I am that I have been able to do more good than I intended to, and that I got to find out that I did so. What a gift for the soul.
