"Sounds in the Grass" by Matt Nunn (Nine Arches Press, 2009)

Language bursting at the seams. Lots of alliteration, even in titles - e.g. "Pushing a piano round the ring road in the rain", or

Out of the disreputable cowardly conceits and colliding cannibalistic conspiracies of the pale summer echoes carrying the billion-dollar kiddie daubs of elastic-winged flappers ("I love you my daring Abstract Emotion")

or

Later, the skipper having bounced us safety into Sydney like a one-legged 'roo in a flip-flop, I snitched on myself to the customs croc that all this faulty weather we was getting was only the sound of all the lepers in my head crooning ("Good morning Australia")

Less frantic are "the looming bankruptcy of/ our comfortably constructed adolescence" (p.41) and "it is hard to say where the weather begins/ and the people end" (p.67). "Ann was here" was my favourite.