I spread my envy thinly like scraped marmite on midnight toast hoping to disguise its presence - naturally I fail, and it oozes out dropping at the feet of vastly superior poets ... Dickinson, Plath, Oliver, Hirschfield, Fulton, Anon and that's just the women The kettle boils. I grab it tightly pour scalding water roughly into the teapot splashing ...Read More
