My goodness! My ears were burning. And just as I was in the middle of building a death bed for Coleridge. (What do you get for the aging poet who has everything, including morphine? A death bed. You know he'll use it.)
Anyway, I don't mean to interrupt you, but to thank you for your pleasant praise. This is a newish venture for me, and it means a lot to get such positive feedback so early into the game. This rather confirms my suspicion that my audience is far superior in every aspect to me, and I deliver my poetry with no small degree of shame and disappointment that such exalted examples of high moral quality should allow themselves to be dragged down into the cistern of my iniquity. But since you're here, enjoy the pudding, as it were.