SKIN
Such a cozy, modest publication, the poets’ voices could be interchangeable – they fit almost too well together. I enjoyed the uncomplicated angst of these poems, and was tickled by the rhymes that made reading them feel more sing-songy than serious, despite macabre subjects like suicide. The first stanza of “Impatience” by Feltham sparkles: “I sniff and snort and I scratch and itch/ Wondering, could you ever make that switch/ You show no emotion… you’re like a rock/ Heck, I could get more passion from my sock”, as does the first stanza of “Strings” by Van Dyk: “Empty kisses/ Knives drenched in honey/ Living a lie/ Humans are deaf”. (PVP)