Daydream Erratica by Kate Frances has an immediacy which feels simultaneously ancient and brand new.
Like the reclusive Emily Dickinson, Frances' poetry carries a sense of an internal world being played out in a substantive universe, a world where sound travels silently: along my arching spine it flew / trembling with the starlight.
Frances' images are singular in their precision, cut from cloth.
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| Silently | Along my arching spine it flew trembling with the starlight |
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