Walk On Air Against Your Better Judgement.

In Off The Moors, Down Through The Mist Beams, God-cursed Grendel Came Greedily Loping.

Even If The Last Move Did Not Succeed, The Inner Command Says Move Again.

Wherever That Man Went, He Went Gratefully.

The Way We Are Living, Timorous Or Bold, Will Have Been Our Life.

Nowadays, What An Award Gives Is A Sense Of Solidarity With The Poetry Guild, As It Were: Sustenance Coming From The Assent Of Your Peers On The Judging Panel.