£8.00
This is the philosophy of language ‘where silence dreariest is most articulate’ lived out in close proximity to the kind of dementia where speech fails. Here reality becomes metaphor, words collide and interrupt their sense. Here artistry turns words craning towards the darkness into tombs on snow like the failure of words on a page between margins to deal with our impending mortality.
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‘A European poet writing in English.’ – Norman Jope
Voices
My voice is in a language ancient as silence on a page we
cannot choose
where there are no words of consolation
merely a mountaintop reflected in a lake of ripples where the
intimacy of our worlds’ wanderings
are granted exile
inscribed and unpronounceable.
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