Little definitional moons orbit the poems of Kit Frick’s Echo, Echo, Light. This lunar, moody sequence of exquisite outbursts into interstellar space brims with linguistic echoes off the face of a beloved whose gravitational pull constantly draws us in. Its looming and inaccessible presence scares us, but Frick’s almanac might help us "learn to wear the dark," "to face the dark" through the many faces and phases this chapbook tracks. These sonorous poems enact a kind of sonar, pinging celestial bodies to locate themselves in time and space. The moon is utterly renewed here as not merely subject but launching pad for poetry.
--Amaranth Borsuk, author of Handiwork, Between Page and Screen, and Tonal Saw
The voltaic prose poems in Kit Frick’s Echo, Echo, Light, build imperative by imperative, offering us vital instructions for how to grasp what is most essential to our living and how to remain steadfast against the urgent, passing dark. And we’re lucky to receive such a handbook, for contained within these delicate boxes is the beauty to brace us though we spin: How we want to grasp the/sound, hold on. Keep track. Catalogue the/shadows, disfigured by dusk. Their forms longest in this moment, as if fearing the day’s end, as if/they could reach far enough to pull back the light. In these shimmering poems we are ghosted, but we are illuminated too.
--Allison Titus, author of Sum of every lost ship and the chapbook Instructions From the Narwhal
Limited Edition, Hand-bound, with Metallic Stamp cover