Salò Press


Even the most experimental poems still have that irresistible beat that continues throughout the magazine. They are the kind of poems that could be performed in a manic slur of words.

I had strange imaginings of the Weimar Republic in Germany while reading it and then considered that this is the sort of stuff that would have been condemned by the Nazi Party with the contents burnt and the editors chucked in a concentration camp.

This issue is marked by titillating writing, across the spectrum of lyrical/musical (see fossil by Florence Reynolds) to coarse/grating (X by Tom Snarsky), and is held together by tactful editing with a strong, piquant vision.