another poet I know little about. I saw this poem first on one of the many iterations of Bill Knott's blog. I don't think it's available anywhere on the 'nets, but I hope people read it here and go look up Nye's work, which, what little I've found of it, is remarkable. This poem appeared in the Times Literary Supplement, May 26th, 2006. MATCHES (by Robert Nye) Some matchsticks in a patch of melting tar Held my attention for at least an hour One afternoon when I was rising four. Crouched in the shadow of some willow trees I stared at them and saw the way love sees, And all was close and clear and singular. Three matchsticks in a black hot patch of tar, One spent, one bent, one still a fusilier Standing up proud and perpendicular With fire in his head, my cavalier. Well, I knelt by them on my naked knees, Transfixed as always by simplicities. I loved those lordlings of the molten square, My puny masters stuck in hot black tar, Though only n...