I have know Jack Henley for many years but had never visited him in his flat in Tangier

That was until last month when he invited me to visit him as I was in Morocco on business

Although he has been one of the Angry Young Men he had not published for over twenty years

Some thought that he was dead but most people had just forgotten about him

He had been my late fathers best friend and my love of poetry was promoted by him

But he never commented or criticised my work noting who is he to be a critic

Nor did he bother with the critics who had slammed some of his later books

Better off masturbating if they can get it up for they are the vermin of the earth 

 

What actually surprised me when I entered his flat was how sparse it was

It is the heat my dear boy one does not want to be cluttered as it suffocates 

On the low wooden table overlooking the scruffy street below was an almost derelict typewriter

Jack has no time for computers or so I was told although he actually owned one but rarely used it

On the only shelf in the room there were only three books one was the collected poems of Eliot

The most outstanding poet of the last century as Hopkins was the outstanding poet of the nineteenth century

He would then tell me that if I carried on with my work then I might well be the great poet of the twenty-first century

This was a running joke between us as although I had a rare talent I was nowhere near either Eliot or Hopkins

 

The other books were a well worn paperback copy of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary which had once belonged to friend

And I have to admit that I had never heard of his third book The Youngest County published by the LCC in 1951

It would never be published these days as those dark days were also the days of hope but as normal we fucked it up 

We could have achieved so much but we squabbled and slowly but surely we let the stupid little men take over 

And that is why we are in the mess that we are in today and this is the reason that I will see my days out here

Bury me in the sand I do not care where but whatever you do Marc do not let them send me back to London

Morocco has its limitations but at least I am left in peace and dare I say respected as they are a rather lovely people

I only spent a few hours with Jack but we were not sad when we parted as it seemed that we had always existed in each others eyes