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In the poetry of Celestine Frost, the I is not confessional, rarely even personal, but, like he or she, a voice, subliminal and quirky. In this, her fourth collection, the liquid, unamalgamated thought of the subconscious seeps into the conscious mind as ore into stone. The resulting idiom is the real subject of her work.

 

"This is feisty, apt writing with an appetite one very much respects. No world is ever there unless it's come into. Here's a way in!"
  —Robert Creeley

"Celestine Frost's poems have the delicate touch that the surest poets command. Here is music that can devise with fire and grace."
  —Ed Foster, Editor, Talisman

"A brilliant song, a celebration of life connecting us to the universe. Frost experiments with language and form, creating a unique rhythm and vision--playful, profound."
  —Marcia Arrieta, Editor, Indefinite Space