Shall I take it that as a class, poets can write endlessly about their own demise, until asked to do so? Or is said exercise something of a ruse, akin to writing "you" when one means "I," and "they" when one means "you," a faux fear of eternity affected for the purpose of urging better enjoyment of the present? Do we mean to say that here we have this great mass of collected poets -- and of the stodgy, death-embracing formalist variety, no less -- without one thought to our own epitaphs among us, this particularly self-indulgent scribbler excepted?
Eh well. Live and learn, die and forget it all
D