Lars Palm’s book is also published by corrupt press, and is only conceptual in that it loosely groups what the back cover calls ‘verses and prose poems’. The same blurb writer also succinctly points out tha ‘Palm’s work is carefully built to look effortless’, which hits the nail right on the head. Palm’s texts remind me of Robert Creeley’s: short burts of music documenting thought process apparently as it happens. There are frozen images, declarations of love, narrative prose poems, and moments of jet(or travel)-lagged surrealism. Palm also boasts a superb beard on the back cover, which he comments upon in one of his short poems:
1 1:ix: 10)
people in terror
of my beard
This is a wonderful book of impulsive and magical, lyrical poetry.