42-Loudon by Frischkorn

Radish King, by Rebecca Loudon
‘Poems that burn.’ These poems ignite and sear with white heat. Like a fever to read them is to feel flushed, disoriented and ritually cleansed. ‘…bats flap in my cherry tree, little broken umbrellas…..My hands reek of gasoline, …smell leaking into albumen…’
-Suzanne Frischkorn

Info on Radish King here
Suzanne Frischkorn blogs here

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