The Sound of the Earth Singing To Herself by Ricky Ray Jo Brandon No poet today writes with

No poet today writes with such a sense of political and social conscience

This is a collection of huge depth and resonance

we may never fully belong

she finds moments of grace or consolation in memory

- from ‘Santa Claus’ by Gabriel Fitzmaurice

The Sound of the Earth Singing To Herself by Ricky Ray Jo Brandon No poet today writes with"So Tired Any Rest Is Grace When the cancer bloomed like an angry flower in her liver she said thank you, Im so tired, Ive been wondering when you would arrive. Help me out of these clothes, would you, then help me out of these bones." "and when we settle into our dens at night, we talk of you, as one might talk of a cupped hand, fading slowly, the rest of the body long departed: a rusty bucket, offering waterall thats left of a god. " From 'Somewhere