My stomach has invented several new knots and named them all after you. I'm so happy I could burst into flames. That's what she said. Falling asleep is like climbing a tall, leafy tree. The branches get narrower – spot me.
Need Machine clamours through the brain like an unruly marching band. Both caustic and thoughtful, these poems offer a topography of modern life writ large in twitchy, neon splendor, in a voice as sure as a surgeon and as trustworthy as a rumour. Honest, irreverent and sharply indifferent, this book will hogtie you with awe.
