- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Heaney
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Born on the wrong side of
his father's land, a circumstance
that has been remedied, his is
a language tough as briar, hefty
and supple, formed by the green
western island, the bogs and the moors and
an interest in the individual:
power, cruelty, all inroads
into life's urges, manifest in
even the rain-swept north. His words,
driven deep into the bare paper
like strong, oak fenceposts
of the rugged border of poetry –
a harsh outline of letters –
delve into the purpose of
violence: torture and suffering
made tangible – the welts that burnt
around the victims neck
seem to be there on mine.
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