The first poems in Pandemonium write about depression and suicide. In the second, we walk along the pavement past metrolinks, workmen changing into their hi-vis on the kerb ‘on the floor the hatched egg of an upturned hardhat,’ crossroads and blocks of flats. Then in the third, family, and the stillbirth of their nephew.

I liked the spacing of the poetry in Pandemonium, and the language that it uses too, both physical and tender. Like the poems on pages 25 and 35.

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