"There is a tangy, tactile sensibility to Eoghan Walls' strange harvest - from the shitfing demographic of today's Europe to the ancient Olympians and their contemporary galactic namesakes, from deserted air-terminals to obscure taxonomies, from a lone boiled egg to the stoical and grim crop reaped by migrant workers. Walls' bold poetic hovers fruitfully between taste and sense, between intellect and lore between the continuity of family and the fragmentations of history, between the matter and the musculature of humanity: The Salt Harvest is a collection that, in its shimmering linguistics and steadfast gaze, will speak directly to our fraught and familiar world." - Anne-Marie Fyfe

"The old world is finished, The Salt Harvest tells us, and I am terrified. From Derry to Drogheda to Eastern Europe and beyond, an aluminium angel with a frogsoul contemplates the meat andanimals of a dry world darkening, probes starmatter in vain limbo, titillates with leftover words like pray or sacrament in a negative baptism where nothing is as funny as it used to be. A griefdappled drigebook lifted alive by love from the water." - Medbh McGuckian