THE JOY OF MISS FORTUNE For many years the poems Kevan Myers wrote first found their form on his computer screen. There he could move the words around and choose which ones would fit most perfectly the music and the meaning which he wished to speak, and thus the art of this machine extended his technique. But new-born visions rarely came to guide his typing fingers or to freshen up his brain. And thus it was that his creative joys were mainly found in patching up old toys. But this all changed one day in June 2006, when he came home to find the door had been bashed open and a void was in the space where his beloved laptop liked to sit, contented in its place. He found himself amazed to find no shock. Knowing that there comes a time for everything to go, he said his sad goodbyes, and staggered out to buy a pad of paper, that was strong, and wide enough to scrawl his lines. And then there came an opening in the clouds for ninety days and nights as cats and dogs were shoved aside by poetry that even now still soaks him in surprise and bring him smiles wider than his eyes.