Poems are wild things: creatures made and living taken straight from the heart and mediated by the mind; made things which insist on their singularities. Poems stampede in their own wilfully strict formations evade and annoy our fences. Poems are things in themselves with their own internal smarts; smart or simple as it pleases them to be.

Welcome to wild poems, enjoy their soft bodies, their sharp hooves.

From some reviews of previous books:

'Chris Mansell's importance as a significant presence in Australia poetry in the past few years is well-acknowledged.'

'She moves easily between the poems using simple yet powerful language. Brief quotes do not convey the muscular emotion and depth of the language the vibrancy, the depth of feeling that Mansell builds line by line. The power...is definitely in a slow accumulation of feeling poem after poem.' Patricia Prime, Stylus

'There is also tenderness to be found on the brink of falling into the dark...Mansell is not just an established presence in modern Australian poetry, but an important figure in our evolving aesthetic.' Stephen Lawrence, Cordite

'[She is] a multi-talented writer who bridges various creative worlds; work sometimes fusing with music, the visual arts, and theatre.' John Jenkins, Cordite