The Cove
Along the bay edge of the empty cove
Donald B. Gammon
Chaleur
There drifted silver hooks of mist
My room is square
My room is square,
Untitled
I am near my midnight, rooting dog-like
Is equals Id
He fled into the crowd
James played games with Jacob
James played games with Jacob
The Cove
Along the bay edge of the empty cove
The Egg that Hatched
A cunning, subtle, breeding spirit
Bubbles
The bird jumped at the bubbles
Sun
I was born, and my cloud-halo burns
Pages
Current Issue: No. 298
