An independent small press poetry review

NHI independent review
Cinnamon Press
Ty Meiron
Glan yr Afon
Blaenau Ffestiniog
LL41 3SU
ISBN 0 9549433 3 3

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This page last updated: 10th December 2007.


	You laugh like a drain,
	and clap your hand to your head
	like a pirate.
Brain-knobbling phraseology akin to this meets the reader-eye after the padlock between print and closed book is breached as he/she searches to increase or explore any state of empathy emitted by the poet, or to solve with satisfaction what is on offer. But this fortress of Greenwell's pages offers no denouéments even when the drawbridge is lowered. For the beauties and delights are in the impossibilities and not in the impossible unravelling. The besieger finds treasure stacked on an unexpected level. It is a pity that much of the blurb quotes in praise of IMPOSSIBLE OBJECTS fall rather short of deeper analytical criticism.

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. 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.
I recommend this collection. I don't know if it advances the poetic thrust which this planet needs to pour oil over its iniquities, but it is a baptismal publishing which is needed to justifiably bring to notice all facets of Bill Greenwell in one impossible piece.

reviewer: Eric Ratcliffe.