Judith Steele's poems get to the heart of things. She and they experience and observe living, dying and family, aging and injury, the myths that were and the myths that replace them. And then, above all, there is the surrounding grace and presence of the nonhuman world.
This is not vaporous poetry. Steele strikes flint. Sparks fly.
—
Douglas Spangle, Holbrook Litarary Legacy Award winner; author,
A White Concrete Day
For Australian poet Judith Steele, not only the world of dreams but also the world of childhood is a great inspiration. Her poetry collection
Islands of Disbelief draws from nature and myths. Her view of old age is unsentimentally precise. Nevertheless, confidence and a true zest for life permeate her verses: "Some grace drops into my dreams / between dreary islands of disbelief."
—
Florian Vetsch, poet, essayist, translator; author,
Tangier Trance; compiler, editor,
Tangier Telegram
Some of these poems cut like a knife into the undulating center of a waterbed. Others make myths of the mundane—first days of school, washing dirty nappies, growing old. Steele's work is humming and alive. Like the konjaks of Kupang, she says, "Let's go."
—
Brenda Taulbee, author,
The Art of Waking Up
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