I am rejected all the time, often by leading presses and poetry journals. Hurts like hell, but one has to keep going. Fact is, my heart's half-broken by the doors that keep slamming shut over here. It's an odd feeling, because I know I have done so much to promote poetry, it feels like misplaced Karma, having all this indifference visited upon my work.
I confess to sometimes thinking of throwing in the towel. Just quit writing. You know, if I wasn't a poet trying to make headway in the current cold currents of British publishing, I'd be a genuinely happy person. Problem is, I love poetry, and the writing of it. It's the getting it out into the world that's so painful.