“We see this sort of thing all the time,” Mostow said. “Every time a new technology’s invented, it causes a boom of self-published pamphlets and newsletters. See these lines here, and the way they cut off some of the cells? This was made pre-Microsoft Office, probably using Lotus 1-2-3. Whoever made this designed the individual pieces on a computer, then cut and taped them to sheets for double-sided photocopying.”

Sandy nodded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it’s a complete run–see the little blurb in the first issue and the last issue?–and I bet there aren’t a lot around.”

“Just because something is rare doesn’t mean it’s valuable,” Mostow replied. “Ephemera like this…we collect it sometimes, and would certainly accept it as a donation, but in order for me to write a check, you’d have to find evidence that these poets are, well, noteworthy.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Sandy growled, glaring at the stack of faded and forlorn poetry newsletters .

“There’s a list of subscribers in the back, and the publisher–well, xeroxer–has his address on the front cover. Picayune stuff that no real publisher would do. But if one of those anonymous poets was noteworthy…I think we could make a deal on behalf of the archive.”