I love finding new poems, particularly from poets who are new to me. This week I’ve been stripping floors. Our flat has bad laminate wobbling like a wave machine over dried puddles of carpet glue and underneath all, somewhere, pine floorboards. I said to my friend “I’ve been stripping floors” and he said “You should read ‘Stripping Walls’ by Brian Jones*” which turned out to be a horribly, wonderfully, accurate poem. The narrator feels terribly proud of his wall stripping achievement only to have the voices of doubt, played in this instance by a star that sounds like Virgil and a moon who looks like Hopkins, make him feel bug small. It reminded me of C.K. William’s ‘Whacked’. All Brian Jones’ books are out of print, which makes me feel slightly less guilty about linking to where ‘Stripping Walls’ has been written out half-way down this thread.
*Brian Jones 1938-2009, a completely different poet to Brian Evans-Jones who was mentioned in an earlier post!