Reader, if it’s the first time that you hit br this site, stretching out like a landscape br as far as the mind may reach – just, we ask, br remember – br every poem’s an adventure; br br - not, perhaps, for you, scrolling fast in case there’s br something better round the corner - br but for these writers – Frost-sparkling, or first-born … br br tune in if you must, to those br discerning poet-critics, poet-teachers, with br their ‘one of his least successful’… br ‘in this early work, she has not as yet…’ br ‘marks the slow falling-away of the early promise…’ br those distant, serious, inconsequential voices like br twirling a radio dial across the stations – br but remember – br every poem’s an adventure; br br all we here, know so well, that br one day we set down what there was to say br and then, we realise - without a shape to it...; br another day, some passing angel touches it br and like some shake of the kaleidoscope, br there it is in perfect form, br touched with immortality… br br we – we’re not fooled; they’re failures in some degree, never br quite what we hoped of them; br but we don’t delet them, for br they’re our children, and we love them; br we’ve learned from bearing, rearing, shaping them; br and when they leave home and roam around the world, br someone may love a part or all of them… br they’re here because, even if they’re br ‘hackneyed, trite, unambitious, banal’ br to those that shit in judgement on your work…yet br br every poem’s an adventure.