The Thing Itself
Needles grazing the window, fingertips,
poetry
Leo's Lullaby
If your daddy doesn't hear you cry out
The Edges of a Footprint Flattening Under Froth
The tide stains a line, lingers
Something to Bury
At Jemseg the river gave up a shoe
Canary: A Dream
We loved our house beside the river.
Notions
The sewing machine hums
The Burning Ground
His old coal-shed filled with garden tools,
Our Slovenly Ways
Our mother in rubber thongs
Follow Me
I hid among the rushes. Picked up stones
Eclipse
Moon, that fire-eater, slips
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
