They are waiting for me somewhere beyond Eden Rock:
My father, twenty-five, in the same suit
Of Genuine Irish Tweed, his terrier Jack
Still two years old and trembling at his feet.
I should confess that
I am not a poetry lover. I have tried to like it. I have tried
different poets, different languages ... but sadly, it doesn't capture
my imagination like a good story. So, I think I am ill equipped to pass
any judgement on poetry, because it doesn't stir me.