Poetry. In part a chronicle of misfortune and heartbreak, THE DARK MONTHS OF MAY tells of life on the run. With his characteristic bawdiness and sonic aplomb, Pickard seeks refuge in the geography of British border ballads, accompanied by eighteenth-century horse thieves and "desperate reprobates." There, he finds only cold consolation: "leave me now and let me sleep / your thieving words are all I'll keep." " THE DARK MONTHS OF MAY] reminds me of an old romantic recording, static and dry and incorruptibly noted"-- Fanny Howe.