Rocksong is a shamelessly baroque ride through the all nadirs and summits of the contemporary queer.

It’s a decadent book, where decadence isn’t a cipher for self-indulgence, but a fierce and fugitive resistance. As Audre Lorde writes ‘We survived and survival breeds desire for more self’.

Or, in the glowing neon precincts of Rocksong, more selves, plural.

These poems flirt and confront in turns, they seduce and attack, they are tender and grotesque.

They create a strangely exultant burlesque on identity, sexuality, desire and language.