Last Letter to Les Murray Les, I’m writing to you —it’s ridiculous I know— for the last time, yet I can almost see the well-chosen postcard coming back, your neat absolutely clear cursive. In public life you were often cantankerous and picked some half-mad pointless controversies, but in writing you were always courteous, commiserate, never dismissive. We all have contradictions and you had them in spades, the barking of the black dog. Over my way the afternoon of your death was a cool, wind-blown, many-clouded day: you disappeared suddenly in the midst of autumn. I see you young, wandering in…