Her Soft Fingers Pickpocket My Brain

Hollins' poems are exquisite snapshots of love, loss, childhood, uncurled ferns and pohutukawa trees. They are at once chilling yet humorous, familiar yet absurd. They evoke an afternoon at a beachside cafe: the patrons, like his poems, seem to have been gathered from every corner of the earth, yet they feel comfortingly familiar like the voice of an old friend.