MISHERIT

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MISHERIT

8.99

Available.

Misherit is L. Gibson’s startling debut in a knotted, hybridised language that crosses early Modern English and contemporary slang. A bleak, Beckettian book-length poem seeking to disentangle itself and its speakers.

Could fawn on a fille of thy fealt.

Femines’ finesses, forgot.

Wear of all frivols and folls.

Cline to thy sulls.

Sahare-sere or sorrow-swoll.

Still, seul.

Thou the lune, and I—whole howl.

“With Misherit, L. Gibson has set out a hybrid dialect in poetry, at once pollarded and protracted, a kind of cant belonging to a band of thieves I have met without noticing. Each of these lines  is like a serpent, demanding you figure its coiling.”
Alison Graham

Astonishing. Unlike anything else. Language lived inside-out and dancing on the seams of a dialect that is at once arcane and without, or beyond, time. A really rare sense of a unique word-world, discovered like some esoteric pocket watch found open but somehow measuring in a new/ancient time... nearly familiar but equally alien in its crystallised invention. This really feels like a mad, wild and fanciful masterpiece.
David Spittle

A5. 68pp.

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“With Misherit, L. Gibson has set out a hybrid dialect in poetry, at once pollarded and protracted, a kind of cant belonging to a band of thieves I have met without noticing. Each of these lines  is like a serpent, demanding you figure its coiling.”
Alison Graham

Astonishing. Unlike anything else. Language lived inside-out and dancing on the seams of a dialect that is at once arcane and without, or beyond, time. A really rare sense of a unique word-world, discovered like some esoteric pocket watch found open but somehow measuring in a new/ancient time... nearly familiar but equally alien in its crystallised invention. This really feels like a mad, wild and fanciful masterpiece.
David Spittle