It’s tiresome I know but I suppose it has to be done. My publisher pleads and wearily I step into the breach. It appears that a trifle of work I did, purely to oblige, has at last been published.
I had for some time felt it would be an excellent idea to write an analysis of all that makes so much modern poetry struggle to achieve even passing notoriety, never mind undying fame. Hence when I was presented with ten poems written by Tallis Steelyard it seemed an opportune moment to append my work to them.
It must be said in the defence of the publisher that they didn’t actually promise me money, although I am certain that during our discussions payment was mentioned. Admittedly it was mentioned in such vague terms that I was forced to seek clarification lest it be I who was paying.
But enough of this…
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