by Daisy Lafarge. 


Daisy Lafarge's capriccio is a beautiful, hilarious, hallucinatory folly. Like all truly fresh poems, it 'snacks on itself' in order to sustain its vision of 'luminous babies', 'tesserae of zucchini', 'sea urchin nipple tassels', and the many other news items 'rocky perception' brings us. It poses past and present selves for an awkward family portrait in front of the dehiscent green screen of the future, with captions like: 'Achieving climate zen.' After reading it I was left with a feeling of great doubt as to what a poem is. Snit snit!
— Oli Hazzard.

capriccio wakes up in tricks and ploys too early and too late, improvising on the runway pulled from underneath us. The book’s stuttered feeds latch on shocks of counterfactual pleasure, joy, and rage, gathering the newsy torrent of wrong posts and messages from the so-called outside into an oblique momentum all its own. ‘A text you wanted – didn’t want – to arrive, arrives.’: lines like plane debris dispersed wide and far through the disaster and the aftermath of capital, a Cheshire grin on every face. I’m listening in these earphones when out of the corner of my eye I spy a mystic or a fool, reaching for a social life.
— Dom Hale.

capriccio, Daisy Lafarge

£5.00Price
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