Peter Redgrove (1932–2003)—a friend and contemporary of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath—became one of the most celebrated and prolific post-war poets. This collection gathers together his last poems and is still charged with characteristic energy, eroticism, and transforming imagination. Redgrove’s language thrills with thunder, rain, and electricity, the air heavy with perfumes and balsams, wasps, and spiders. Peter Redgrove made us look at our world with fresh eyes, and he changed our perception forever.
Well respected Mr Redgrove may be, but this peculiar collection of messy sexual weirdness did little for me on any level. A few collectable phrases aside, I found the majority of poems impenetrable and inaccessible.