What if, like Anaximander,
only one sentence of your work
would survive for a thousand years?
Or more precisely, two thousand
six hundred years? You would have
to leave a few things unsaid.
But, bad luck, you can’t
choose the sentence. It will
be some random one copied
by a student. And, worse luck,
you can’t choose which
student. Your solution
must be to write less,
and try to rip out
all the crap.
If you write anything
good, write it often.
Subtract; survive.
Make it yours.
Give yourself
a chance.
Appeared in The Seneca Review, Spring 2020.