There is little here of the literary mainstream. This is poetry at the margins, even beyond the margins. An extraordinary debut by a late starter. Intdense and compact certainly but nonetheless, taking pains to follow Oppen’s dictum “I have not and never did have any motive of poetry / But to achieve clarity”. There are, of course, shades hovering around these margins, among them those of Celan, Oppen, Blanchot, Mallarmé. A poet who spends his life teaching philosophy cannot escape its influence, that of modern European thought which is fuelled by ontological insights. The result is a series of intimate meditations on the intrinsic failure at the heart of creative writing denying the source which fathers it. Ending with a profound series on the death of his father and all fathers. All pared down to their essential core but still lyrical and obsessed with the music of language. As Jenner write: “There is nothing remotely like him”.