Mingle

Caleb Parkin’s dark and mischievous second poetry collection Mingle stirs up the toxicities between landscapes, ecosystems and bodies, in poems bubbling over with hyper-wealth and haunted by tarnished ideals. Through creatures, compounds and chemicals, the poems probe what makes up our world's matter, and how we use it for good or ill. From gold to hydrocarbons, radioactive gardening to viral memes, the resulting mixture is a potent poetic cocktail…

Here, intimate connections and grand narratives are unsettled; we are implicated in prickly histories and weird futures and the natural world reminds us of its unruliness – as well as our own. Reflections warp in noxious ponds and voices distort and echo in uncanny landscapes. At times hyperreal and surreal, adventurous and technicolour, Mingle fizzes with the possibilities of queered language and altered states of poetic form.

Praise for Mingle:

“In Mingle, Caleb Parkin creates a space of panpsychically playful interaction between all Earth’s beings, giving its attention to the experience of waterlilies and inflatable penises alike. The reader is encouraged to look deeply at the world around us, with the awareness that it just might be staring back. Our natural interconnectedness and mixed-up-ness is expressed in a balance of fragility and camp joy, by a poet with a gift for wit and the unexpected.”-  Suzannah Evans

“Mingle is a fizzing meditation on our queer and marvellous intermingled world, its bounty and its poisons, our interconnectedness and our complicity. It raises important questions about the inseparability of systems and their consequences: from the awful irony of curing one cancer, but causing another, to the ever-presence of human medications and interventions in the more-than-human world.” - Polly Atkin

“As one might encounter cruising the outskirts, these unpredictable poems yield an irradiated field of sequins, mirrors, and the beginnings of things. Caleb Parkin’s body-warm lyrics shimmer with the promise of rivers, beguile with the force of undercurrents, guzzle around your feet. Prospero’s drowned book has been recovered and we are left to encounter, through pages soaked in mixed metallics, a new magic.” - Andre Bagoo