Shakespeare said it first. Or at least Don Paterson’s version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 102 did:
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.
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Shakespeare said it first. Or at least Don Paterson’s version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 102 did:
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.
. . . the only two themes, it seems to me, and they are one and the same. I only met Linda Chase once in the flesh, but I loved her. And now she's gone.
The email newsletter went out last week flagging three new publications. But guess what I forgot?
I can't stand Visiting Hour by Norman MacCaig. Marking school work has killed it for me. Too many nostrils bobbing down too many corridors in too many MacCaiging essays.
I once carried out a lengthy analysis of winning entries in order to pin down the secret.
Publishers are not to be trusted, and a poet (thank you, Oscar Wilde) can survive anything but a misprint. Yes, I did it again.