Barrows

Another poem

about poets

and poems

and other things.

Barrows

I cannot see the sense

why these machines

of verse dispense,

in barrowed rows

the obvious.

The skeleton of prose.

A corpse of rhyme

so still.

They have such need

for barrows,

to cart the words

uphill.

Photograph: On the west bank

of the River Shannon.

The church of

Saints Peter and Paul.

Taken about 1996.