A SHIT SONNET

My world is coming down

With poetics and poetic literature

The meanings jump of the shelves

Pound and Eliot and all those

Cold grey words that go right over

Your head and drop like a blitz.

The war years are full of them

But it’s the books in the bogs

That really matters.

All those inward outward words

That find your centre and explode

Like the real ablutions of literature.