Shaven and Shorn

The politically-weaponized humor that rings throughout Shaven and Shorn is directed at abusers, from the mendacious West African witchdoctor who receives his fees by VISA credit card in ‘Jokes that fall flat’; through the alt-right Texas shopkeeper in ‘Calculating his federal taxes’, as his overheating mind ramps up the voltage to microwave bigoted wit for his turn / at the barbeque gab ; to the comical images of the Zimbabwean rural chief in ‘Straddling the bright-red tractor’, as he helps the nation’s supreme leader to carry out electoral fraud. Shaven and Shorn is catholic in its curiosities: it eavesdrops on the silences of a family of self-absorbed members; it watches the gestures of friends sharing a meal; it searches the hearts of lovers; it ferrets out the egos of politicians. The poetry pretty much walks up to all and sundry as they mind their own business, and unashamedly sniffs their armpits. As we come to the last line of the book, we are panting our dismounting from a rollercoaster of emotions and ideas.