Kevin Irelands words pop like seaweed pods, whether he is: honouring friendships making sourdough bread grinning at the weather gods wondering why he slept in marvelling at the miracle of a shower giving advice to writers analysing chance remarks and philosophical paradoxes celebrating the benefits of a failing memory circumnavigating childhood, ageing and death or just having fun, which he does refreshingly often. Shape of the Heart sparkles with poems that take us from brain to heart, sometimes detouring to unexpected places (such as the belly button), but most often in a direct and delightful line.