Ever wondered if there was another way of doing it? Poems for Ghosts takes up where his Selected Poems left off. A compendium of modernist plunder, this is no collection for lovers of the traditionally tame. Sound poems, found poems, straight poems, hooliganism restructured, protests at the ruination of heritage, passionate pleas for language. These are innovations, literate blasts, performances. Finch wittily re-arranges our perception of poetry: kippers rub shoulders with Dutchmen, out at the edge America vanishes, the rain falls steadily on our sheep-filled hills. Who else could have suggested that the Welsh might have invented dada?