Three Poems
Peter Porter, 20 December 1984
“... show you Hell!’ For Hell, as Shelley said, might be a city Much like London, dressed in cold self-pity Fanning-out in grids from dread of death, Its towers of hate above, its sewers beneath Where flows the dreck of self – the squares, the prisons All at the service of destructive visions. This in my chill mid-morning ... ”