Barry Dempster's an under-rated poet. I know, who isn't? Yeah, he's been nominated for a couple of GG's, but one too rarely hears his name come up in conversations about contemporary poetry. I really like Barry's best work. It's clear and direct for the most part, informally colloquial and conversational, which is often mistaken for simple, but is in fact very hard to do well. And he can be damn funny. My favourite poem of his is called "Lucky Pigs," a virtuoso meditation on the prolonged porcine orgasm. I made him read it once. He's a terrific reader. I also quite like the poem "Long Weekend," newly published at Nth Position. Check it out.