If we could just--just stop. For one year. If everybody could stop publishing their poems. No more. Stop it. Just--everyone. Every poet. Just stop.
That's a paragraph from page 19 of Nicholson Baker's The Anthologist, which I'm reading now.
The speaker, Paul Chowder, a poetry critic, is clearly tired, and he's posing the question from a tired person's perspective.
But what if it were to happen? Perhaps this is a picture of that world: