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The first word in this new collection by Phil Hall is verb and the last word is blurtip. Between these, many nouns cry out their faith within a hookless framework 1/2that sings in chorus while undermining such standard forms & tropes as the memoir, genealogy and the shepherd's calendar. With a rural pen, these poems talk frogs, carrots, local noises, partial words, remnants, dirt roads, deep breath & hope: my laboratory the moment
is 1/2accordion-shaped -- cluttered -- sopping & not eternal