A5, 28 pages, Black & white printing, Saddle stitched, Softcover, Ed. of 50, 2023

A strangely lucid abstruse enfilade that seems to take sardonic delight in its own lack of self-assuredness, even impotence, counteracting this latter with a sort of forlorn hope charge into semantic oblivions. A calligraphic sunset reel, reeling with a cursed panegyric to the mourning of one’s own error. Ultimately, though, to put it in more banal terms perhaps, this is a weird interrogation of the process of writing poetically - once again, so like himself, Sam makes a strong case for something he professes (implicitly) at not infrequent intervals to detest. 

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