Great Regulars: The poems are clear and precise,

full of repeated descriptions of fire as, time and again, they carefully scrutinise the burning of the scrubs and trees he has cut down and cleared: "Fire crystallises about evergreen stems.//On hawthorn bushes the tips of thorns/Ignite and glow." The language is continually asking what fire is, how it works, how it is experienced. And with the focusing of attention comes an accumulating sense of the subtleties of that experience: "I watch the materials caught/In the rush of heat,/How leaves, stems, twigs/Lose heart, crumble about themselves,/Fold in."

from Charles Bainbridge: The Guardian: Collected Poems and Translations by Robert Wells

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