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Margaret Wilmot writes like a true citizen of the world. She is as at home in the nine-partsequence: Quanta US: ?Wide-screen America?/ prelude to a Western,? as in a sailor?s hostelin Buenos Aires: (Your Holiness, Your Grace, Dear Sir, Dear Pope). She writes with agleaming, persistent sense of wonder. Small, yet vital details are spotted, pondered andbrought into the spotlight of her keen gaze, becoming poignant, whimsical and deeplysignificant in turn. Horse riding in Santa Catalina (Santa Catalina), she is halted by amigration of frogs: ?Each step will be a killing?, and who knew that the bullying magpie canrecognise itself in mirrors? Just like humans! (The Thriving Magpie) This collectionbreathes with her dazzling use of language, and what I can only define as a sort of heightenedenergy underpinned by an indefinable sense of spirituality. It is a unique and welcomeaddition to a sometimes rather tired contemporary poetry scene.
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