Conoisseurs of the arcane will no doubt wonder what it is about Plymouth and Buddhism: first Lobsang Rampa, a.k.a. Cyril Henry Hoskins - erstwhile plumber's son and host to the transmigrated soul of a Tibetan lama - and now Kenny Knight's repeated invocations of the Dalai Lama - occasionally accompanied by Ruth Padel - in a new Book of the Dead. While Nirvana might be hard to reach in this suburban district of Plymouth, the highlight of which is a misplaced 19th century fort, it nonetheless reaches the status of myth in this collection of poems. The Honicknowle Book of the Dead is where memory, movies, television and 1960s' rock bands merge into a surreal narrative; it is where Lorna Doone and Geraldine Monk share pages, where the local poetry scene announces its presence, and where - in an alternate universe, perhaps - Ted Heath led Britain into the Common Market, Ted Heath, the band-leader, that is. For memory is confusion, and being young is confusing, and poetry is never anything but confusion. Welcome to extraordinary world of Kenny Knight.