However long a poet struggles to establish a style that answers the questions of form, voice, tone or subject haunting his imagination, the real work begins after the discovery is made.
A crab on the phone box floor; the armless mannequin
on the chapel roof at dawn; the plastic toad in the office
Often away on business though no-one
seemed to know what Uncle’s business was.
He’d return from Timbuktu, North Pole or Mars,
The author, critic and broadcaster writes two new poems - “Nature Programme” and “The Emperor’s Last Words” - exclusively for the New Statesman.
I found the guy who inspired your famous poem,
asked him to remove his shades so that I too might bathe
Matthew Sperling looks at new poetry collections by Paul Batchelor, Oli Hazzard, and Toby Martinez de las Rivas.