"From rigorously formalist to prose-poetic, these poems, with their invariably eloquent details, are lessons in sharp observation and what it is to be a woman with a grand heart, a penetrating mind, and not least, a keen wit."—Sydney Lea, author of Ghost Pain
"The neighborly language of local exchange and local enchantment, slipknot and memory, cell-stream and the surgeon's knife, runs like springwater through the poems of Fleda Brown. So perfectly tempered are the apprehensions of metaphor, so cunning are the felicities of form—rhyming as natural as human breath!—we're tempted to think it's not art at all. Except for the radiance, which only art, and a generous mind, can make."—Linda Gregerson
"Things fall apart in these poems—memories, family, and the expanding universe are scattered into pieces, spread across imagination's space. But Brown also seeks to compose—or at least to imply the possibility of—their reunion. Cast in an impressive variety of forms, she manages her signature, magical metamorphoses, poetry soaring at its best, yet, somehow, never leaving the ground it rises from."—Dabney Stuart