Four Poets there's the one with a wealth of laurels, the readies to go with 'em and on his palate a clustering oyster of spit. or the one who from modern grudges out of closeted flushrooms concocts her litanies of similitudes against the rooster she sees as everywhere about to ejaculate while she goes home and gets quietly randy with broody Biddie. or shall we say the Varsity type who runs "Master Class" Poetry Workshops and deals with his garden adventures and the traces left in January snow by fauna, either that or a refrigerator full of middle class food situated among the niceties which surround his social whirl. they have their ways of addressing the Muse which are not a lot worse than the method of the ironic observer with a wallet full of social security money whose picture it's always a pleasure to apply the varnish of a little sarcasm to.