From global denizen, Dau Branchazel, comes this new collection of old poetry.From Hong Kong holiday island suicide pacts to Perth moonlight reflected on feverfew, this collection reads like lyrical footsteps, retraced in the only way that makes any sense ... at random. Shoes fly over president's heads, trees are venerated and an ex-lover dissolves in waking arms. Reflections on the emergence of the surveillance state, rub shoulders with meditations on honey-eaters and alcohol's effect on the moon. The surreal meets the all too familiar, and jostle for supremacy in the quest to define our perception of the world. A cat and a televangelist are both compared to Jesus, and darkly satirical sentiments mingle freely and openly with a bruised heart's prayers for absolution and clarity. In this world, so clouded, confused and chaotic, randomology appears to be the only logical field of study to pursue.
