The rose must bear its effing name. Alright!
But a rose by any colour sings so bittersweetly! Roll up roll up, welcome all to the endless garden of autochromatic delights! Kat Addis’ The Song of the Fucking Rose pins the thorny specimen under the poemscreen and sees it go refracting into protean syntagmas - how they so lithely prick the finger! twining their streams around the more forgiving parts of the Stem Cerebral, how they do themselves assemble into such bright corolla - falling into the aubade of our own shades! such an uncouth muse! - and yet such bright hope! escaping out from underneath the word, sub rosa!
(A5, 160gsm, 21 pages - THIS IS ALSO A COLOURING BOOK)
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