Thank you for reading, Dermott!

I've come to think of poetry as running along a kind of continuum, or spectrum, with one end -- the unpoetic side, I'll say, or what Tolstoy in old-age called "school books and business documents" -- lifeless, dull, dead or dying upon the page, while the other side, the poetic, is bright and burning, vibrant, evocative, alive with phonetic linguistic light.