Gwent-born poet Sammy J. Matthews weaves an unsettling tapestry in Birds With Vertigo, where the sublime decay of flesh is transfigured into sacrament. This collection thrives on the visceral, plunging deep into the grotesque recesses of body horror and the jagged intrusive edges of fractured morality, writhing between the abject and profane. Each line churns with absurdist reverence, posing unflinching questions to the heavens: Are we clay shaped by cruel hands, or merely the sloughed-off residue of an indifferent cosmos? Birds With Vertigo invites readers to revel in the crumbling mirth and questionable nature of the human condition when confronted with the ruinous onslaught of deathly rites, delusion, despair, and disastrous carnival thrills.