Ken Evans “True Forensics”
Demands your full attention. Your absolute focus. Every poem is tightly constructed. A forensic examination of the minutiae of life.
Wonderful experiments with form as “Tracks Of The Ninja” where the words become the tracks across the page. Every poem is a meditation on a moment. “To Stare Too Long At A Branch” an unpunctuated piece looks like a tree. Finishes in a Ted Hughes like phrase:
I know nothing
While she has my inner workings
In the small clocks of her bones
Of no more interest to her than the chance of rain
A stream of consciousness about consciousness to me. There is wry humour as in “Sweet Tea”:
What do you get if you swallow Tipp-Ex?
White poo.
Dense with concrete detail, a delight in language these poems repay rereading. Precipices to scale for the glorious view at the summit.
The Wombwell Rainbow 