Publisher's Synopsis
Poetry. A house made of doors? A house sewn from pockets? A house constructed out of watches? To read this book is to take a delightful, wildly imaginative tour through a series of improbably desirable homes. I, for one, want to live in CB Follett's house of straw where cows are spoked and nibbling. Or the hedgehog house where I can stick all my notes on the ends of their spines. Or the house of lemons with its 'changing cinema of light.' Or...--Susan Terris.
