Gee, Mike Essig, that’s an odd thing to say. I always thought writers, and especially poets, were la crème de la crème, or the cat’s meow! Perhaps it was my young life spent in New York City’s Greenwich Village — which was where all of the écrivains et poètes landed and lived in fashionable little “mansardes”. They were known in our circles as the intellectuals who’d always write best sellers one day. Even as we all grew older together, it was these artistes who, for many of us, held the most interest. And promise. I guess making loads of cash wasn’t our first priority. Although many of our écrivains et poètes actually did! In any case, none of them were terminal cases of uselessness nor poverty. Maybe they were just the lucky ones. But I certainly hope not!

But of one thing I AM sure: Not one of them lived up to your level of brilliance and prolific, endless talent!