"For those who, as Sofía Starnes puts it, “hazard holiness," the world, which must be loved, also requires a strange and luminous patience that her poems celebrate and embody, sometimes impatiently, as they seek the numinous: “It is as though a household knocker rapped: Keep close to home; / Keep home. As if a distant continent crept into my room." Her challenging lyrical explorations echo Emily Dickinson and Gerard Manley Hopkins, but her voice is all her own—jazzy, lyrical, acerbic, and mystical: “A child is what she is; // not the day, / not the doubt my word careens against— // There I go now, forgetting." You will not read a better, stranger book this year". — Andrew Hudgins