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So far, this poetry collection is what I hope poetry can do and can make me feel. To be fair, I have read little poetry, so saying this, is based on just a few works. This format however, was amazing. Poems that work together to partly tell a story - a story of a Cartographer and a Rastaman having a conversation, which goes deep, that goes through many places. Here I have to insert another kind of 'warning'. I feel that many poems often had more meaning to them than I could grasp. This might be just my impression, or me being too harsh on myself. However, it may have been just because of that that reading this was an experience that left me brimming with energy.

I hope the following lines help to illustrate a bit of the beautiful language Kei Miller uses, even though out of context:

"...And what to call the blood
of hummingbirds but maps
that pulse the tiny bodies across
oceans and then back?..."


Part of poem vii p. 22