For Harry Chambers
After the posthumous exhibition
at the library, I walked with my daughter
(a student at Hull and sure she’d seen him once
in the lift) down Newland Avenue
to Pearson Park. I pointed out the house
where Larkin’s flat had been and told her how,
more than twenty years before, a friend
and I had been persons from Porlock.
He’d answered the door in a dressing gown,
vest, grey flannels and, ruefully,
TOWARDS A DEFINITION
TOWARDS A DEFINITION
THE PLOT AGAINST THESE ISLANDS
THE PLOT AGAINST THESE ISLANDS
THE PLOT AGAINST THESE ISLANDS