
by Jules Evans
a collection of poems centred around memory and resurrection, a kind of recurring haunting, often returning to the scene of childhood. everything here is a memory, in my hands to shape because it has no real shape of its own, not since the occurrence passed-memories made into flowers, and wheeling light, and stones, and anything that mounts pleasure at my doorstep or swells with grief.
No posts about this book yet. Be the first in the app!