Kevin Davies, FPO, Edge Books, 2020 A new book from Kevin Davies— coming roughly once a decade —is a very good thing. In fact, I’ve deleted all manner of hyperbole from this piece just to avoid embarrassing myself. FPO arrived at the end of the COVID year, 2020, making its arrival amidst such grief and turmoil doubly joyous. Needless to say I've been poring over FPO, and you will too. Davies’ poetry is formally amazing, complex in its execution, condensed underneath its own initial appearance of information overload. In each Davies’ book, there seems something akin to a a mock-up of parts discrete yet interrelated, and ultimately dependent on each other. Not unlike Blake, a marvel of infernal engineering. Basically a world, ours. Here is my iphone pic to illustrate: We might claim that in FPO, the mobius-strip-like run-on sentences of it’s middle section mimic the endless rationalization and code-splaining of electoral politics and what passes for a public discourse, but that wo