Full-colour, Perfect-bound Paperback, 210 x 148mm, 44pp

‘at the rim of the tide now in the light of the last pale sun
the season spirals through transparent air we know the time has come’
a sea-town, a dream, a voyage  

through a collection of extraordinary ‘seascapes’ found in weathered stones, mixed with cut-up text from the sea images of melville and coleridge, mary frances weaves a strange and magical thread, a dream sequence of elusive memories and lost sea dreams

 if a poet is someone who turns this into this, then mary frances is at once poet and conjurer: she is able to see the magic deep-hidden in everyday stone, the profound stories and revealing landscapes concealed within an old stone wall, a gravestone, a piece of earth. this is such a short book but one feels as if one has travelled far and experienced wonders after reading it. like milarepa’s horn, which is larger inside than out, this little book contains a universe all its own: it allows us to see ‘ordinary’ things as if for the first time, as small children can, and it opens new worlds to our weary eyes, so we emerge from it refreshed, grateful, dazzled — or as the french say, émerveillé, filled with wonder. — charlotte mandell

mary frances examines the small corners of the world and, through a kind of fierce lyrical and visual alchemy, turns these unremarked places into cultural hubs, reminding us that if we look closely and listen hard then narratives will blossom and poetry will grow. — ian mcmillan

Mary tweets @maryfrancesness