CROSSING THE NIGHT IBD

Sinopse

The poems in this selection reach into the ungraspable realm of the human psyche, our own âÇÖhidden constellationsâÇÖ. Charged with mystery and wonder, they explore the possibility of life being written âÇÖinto the white hot revelationsâÇÖ of stars, the hidden territory into which paintings lure you, the power of dreams to magnify and distort. Lyrically aware of the natural world, they are haunted by ecological loss and disaster, wondering how a post- apocalyptic people would remember earth when it is considered âÇÖweakness to look backâÇÖ. Mourning the futility of war they envision âÇÖa land where the oak and the pomegranate intertwineâÇÖ and look ultimately to the hope that lies in new life.'In Crossing the NightáFrances-Anne King trains her visionary, art-loverâÇÖs gaze onto outer worlds of past, present and future to show how they shape and reflect inner worlds. We see a cloud brachiosaurus âÇÖloping the skyâÇÖs vast plainâÇÖ, a child âÇÖwhose kingdom was an oak woodâÇÖ now a young man lost to the war and his mother who has only the quilt she has sewn him to bury on the Welsh hillside, the settlers of the Red Planet who are only allowed to dream of the Earth they once loved. Physical, philosophical, architectural, alive with startling imagery and often intensely moving,áCrossing the Nightáis full of wonder. I read it several times with astonishment and admiration.'Jenny Lewis'Frances-Anne KingâÇÖs poetry is already known and loved for its lyrical tenderness towards friends and strangers, unregarded creatures and distant stars, ruined civilisations and modern cities, the near and the far. In this pamphlet, she shows us how deeply she also cares about the âÇÖhidden constellationsâÇÖ of the human heart, the âÇÖunmapped territoryâÇÖ of human love in all its forms. The language is still lyrical but it has acquired an elegiac directness which accords with the poetâÇÖs sense that âÇÖour light is briefâÇÖ. Even a fleeting dream can âÇÖleave you wounded for daysâÇÖ, while an awareness of the worldâÇÖs fragility grows and grows into âÇÖthe hidden apprehension-blossomâÇÖ. And yet the poet holds out the promise of hope, frail as a flower, bright as a star, for us to contemplate and take our own comfort from.'Lesley Saunders