Centa Therese’s disarmingly vulnerable dreamscapes invite us to enter, naked, into a series of rich and often uncomfortable confrontations with our deeper consciousness. An heir of Woolf, Therese casts a patient, deep, unflinching net into the endless flow of moments streaming under the dryness of so many of our daily lives. To enter Therese’s world is to dip into an awareness as fresh and exacting as a hall of subterranean mirrors.
-Annie Finch, author, Spells: New and Selected Poems
In this remarkable collection of lyric and prose-poems, the myth of me, Centa Therese reveals the life of "something wingless" that knows "only by dream what it is to fly." Here are poems of deep mystery; poems of such incantation, they light up all the senses with images bathed in the duende of the unconscious. Read these poems with wonder and pleasure, and like da Vinci, we’ll walk the earth with eyes turned skyward, "singing each other home."
-Terry Ehret, author, Lucky Break and Night Sky Journey
As a reader, of Centa Therese’s collection, I find myself connected both to my inner world and the external earth and sky, as I journey with the author on her own inward yet embodied pilgrimage toward both light and language. Indeed, the title the myth of me is apt because it is precisely this type of inward/outward spiritual yet ecological journey that a body, contemplating poetry, does want.
-Anna Marie Johnson, Ph.D., Professor of Language/Literature, Eastern Mennonite University