This poem was painstakingly transcribed by 23 unpaid

interns labouring under my cool, indifferent 'tutelage'

(and who, after each day's work is finished, in bars and cafés

across the city will pretend to their friends how valued

they're made to feel as students and protegés of mine.)

                                                                                                   E...

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I, too have watched a myriad words die,

all for want of you, fearless audience -

your special someone with that kindly eye

and ear who could best, sans wilful offence

urge me to test myself, by composing

a thousand lines and honing them to one.

Your wisdom, without combative ego's

ingrown need to sound 'clever' (not far gone

in self-esteem, I mean) might serve adv...

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