“NDR’s GUNK is ugly, and within all of this ugliness there is such passion. This book is almost upsetting in how much the speaker, at times, hates themselves, though this is balanced out by the deft romance in NDR’S language. NDR screams ‘MY BODY IS DISGUSTING & I AM MADE OF SHIT,’ but concedes that a ‘HALO ADORNS [THEIR] BROKEN SKULL,’ showing a duality that runs throughout GUNK: expressions of extreme self-repulsion in conjunction with beautiful imagery. Boy, do I love GUNK.”
— Veronica Bennett, poet & e.i.c. (etc.) of Bullshit Lit
“This book will vibrate in your skull. It is desperate and honest, introspective and self-aware and soaked in a viscous, oozing terror. On the page and in person, NDR never needs a microphone; their words and intentions are loud and clear. The gunk of this book is a pit of black, boiling tar; it’s the hole into which it’s poured. It’s a curse, and it works.”
—Lindsay Hargrave, author of ROT & Computer Baby
“Staccato and flowing descriptions of spiritual filth and spiritual apotheosis. GUNK is extreme
poetry that varies panic with fervor. Each poem is a personal apocalypse.”
—Peter Webb
