NEW HOPE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW

From WHITE JIGSAW:

	You laugh like a drain,
	and clap your hand to your head
	like a pirate.

The 90 pages of poetry may not be exhaustive of Greenwell's fertility in this knotty area, but, I would say, are more than enough to satiate the reader with the enticing style of the poet. There is the suspicion, of course, that this is not what poetry is supposed to do — present undo-able packages four-square in their own right. I do not honestly know in this age of snooker-tale and free-for-all literature. Precepts in 2006 hardly exist, save that the human poet for his own survival must avoid commercial signposting, although living amongst money-driven exhortations — there are some here but hardly in a sales spirit in THE MUSE VII. UNWANTED VISITORS. e.g.as the muse prepares to repel Greenwell type boarders at the door including Mata Hari and the Queen of Sheba who brought some scones, who have rude awakenings at the door:

	Over their heads she pours 
	absinthe, goose-grease, the blushful
	Hippocrene (Asda own-brand), Tizer,
	and a dollop of
	I Can't Believe It's Not Margarine.

	Tarts! she says,
	walloping the door, and
	settling back to an 
	evening of 
	Ars Poetica.