11 MAY 1996, Page 40

January in the Sculpture Park

Feet crack through frosted glass, crossed-grass pattern, By Gormley's tin-stockinged gestures, Caro's narrow shed, Gross pelvic moulds, and Zeppelin cocoa pod On which a crinkly fungus crisply wedges, A cut-back willow trunk without a title yet, And, winding through, the thread of a red dog.

ALL HAT WEARING. BRASSIERES ALSO TO WEAR.

ALL TO DANCE.

PARTNERS TO TOUCH. NOT WALK BEHIND.

LADIES HAIR CURL IN PERMANENT WAY.

LOW CASTE NO UMBRELLA-ING.

Alan Dixon

My own hair curls with pleasure at the mere thought of a Norman Lewis book, and I wave my umbrella once more in salute to this marvellous writer.