Sharpe as a stick
The lines are pointy and textured and tumble down the page like perfect little pebbles. This is a deep, deep book. Well deep.
Published September 2012 FOR A HIGH RESOLUTION IMAGE OF THE COVER CLICK HERE
Kerrin P. Sharpe’s poems make me think of migratory birds. It’s as if they have just settled very briefly on the page after long journeys from far-off places – from Europe, from Antarctica, from other centuries. My advice is that we read them quickly before they take flight again. Or, better, write them out in a notebook. Then bury the notebook in a metal box somewhere deep in the earth, where people in the future can dig for days until they find it.