“There are worse voices to have in your head
than Billy Collins’”, a voice said in my head
that was not Billy Collins’ –

it was not my voice either. Rather a voice of
sudden learned experience, a voice copied
from reading more of Mr Collins’ poems than

had usually been the case, and from hearing him
speak his truth to the power of poetry via the video.
The voice also told me that what I was writing

right now didn’t exactly qualify; wasn’t quite
having full cut-through. But my own voice had
been telling me that for years, yelling it in fact

through several dozens of poems and then on
to hundreds and probably several thousands as well.
But that’s nothing to do with Billy. He is a

comfort and I feel more relaxed for hearing his
voice in my head – it sometimes calms hearing
my own one, reassures me about having it here.