
I confess I did not know you, or your work,
but Facebook says you have died.
A quiet family funeral, no fuss.
But your passing is noticed anyway.
When out there, in the storm of noise,
a few words that meant something
are now missing.
There is a hole there,
which may one day be filled
with wisdom.
But most likely, will not.
I had a print of the death of Chatterton on my wall as a 19 year old English Literature undergraduate…
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Well spotted Mick 🙂 Sad story, and an under-estimated poet.
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