The remarkable second poetry collection from JW Stanhope – is an emotional exorcism, a reckoning that unfolds in the dark hours when the mind slips into freefall. These poems trace the restless wanderings of a consciousness unraveling, grasping at the earth as both refuge and witness. Desire and shame tangle like roots beneath the surface, addiction hums like a distant tide, and the night becomes both a battleground and a balm. 
Blurring the line between the physical and the otherworldly, O, Papa summons shame and resilience as if they were ancient spirits moving through the body. The poet reaches into something primal, unearthing the echoes of forgotten beings that lurk within us all, shaping desire, grief, and yearning. Here, suffering is not solitary; it is threaded through time, shared with the ghosts of those who have felt it before, and those who will feel it again.
Following the battle for physical endurance with the elements in Idk, the poet’s mind fractures, reforms, and finds uneasy solace in the spaces between suffering and survival. O, Papa does not seek redemption—it simply refuses to look away.