Honesty, I think, was the link common to the very different writers at the Literary Death Match. I listened to every word with moment-to-moment renewed respect, and heard an honesty I aspire to. Andrew’s crystal clear, compact glimpses, Rupert’s passion and brutal pictures of political ca-ca, Justin Chin’s irony and razor humor. Is Sky a genius? Does she have an inspired committee? Superb choices. And the judges were not what they might sound like: they appreciated what they heard, and their analyses gave us easy opportunities to re-experience the work. As layered as poems are, this is a gift. A rare gift. And the "Intangibles" guy, hey, he competed with us, coming up with those surreal stories in response – on the spot! He should have won the prize. An exquisite evening. And I haven’t mentioned how good the MC was.