You should never think you've got him really pegged, because the fact is that he knew more than you. (One thing he knew, of course, was which bits he had made up!) Genius is what we call that I think.
Now I’m really scared. Now I know that I should read him with shite for brains, since, golly gee whiz, what the f*** do I know?
This doesn’t strike me as a helpful way to approach reading a poet.
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