Imagine if you will every crazy thought, every passing bit of poetry was gathered and published after your died. Most found beauty and joy in your heartbreaking words. Some just saw some shit about bees and random references to being sad. "Cheer up," those assholes said, then went about being assholes, as assholes are want to do.
Imagine all that? Good. You now know the feelings of the rotting corpse of Emily Dickinson.
Now, think about how those people who gathered all those bits of paper. They did not live in the same places! Nope. They spread those weirdo scraps of bee dictation around the world, causing confusion and dread to hapless searchers of Dickinson nonsense.
Yes, now some people have gotten together and said, "Hey, what if we used this Internet thing?" And some hipsters were like, "No, you gotta see it in real life for it to have meaning," and then those hipsters were dragged out into the backyard, stripped naked, covered in honey and left staked to the ground for the ants to find. When they were heard complaining that they had seen this torture back when it was cool, they were whacked in the genitals with a baseball bat covered in barbed wire.
So, yeah. Emily Dickinson's original work is now all online in one place.