"My God!
Twelve poems lost and I don't have any copies!
And you took my paintings too, the best ones!
It's intolerable!
[...]" So goes a poem by Charles Bukowski titled "To the Whore Who Took My Poems." And it's a feeling any artist experiences after the loss of their work. Ted Hughes must have felt the same way when Sylvia Plath burned the only manuscript of his novel in one of her delusional fits, and it's also what Alice Neel felt after her l…
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"My God!
Twelve poems lost and I don't have any copies!
And you took my paintings too, the best ones!
It's intolerable!
[...]" So goes a poem by Charles Bukowski titled "To the Whore Who Took My Poems." And it's a feeling any artist experiences after the loss of their work. Ted Hughes must have felt the same way when Sylvia Plath burned the only manuscript of his novel in one of her delusional fits, and it's also what Alice Neel felt after her l…