blue bird
you are a winged creature, something of a pterodactyl, that flies
poetry
A Soggy Spongy Mass that Towel Became (tr. John Heath-Stubbs)
A soggy spongy mass that towel became
The Plover (tr. John Heath-Stubbs)
A plover whistled shrill above the bay
Last Epiphany of the Second Christian Millenium
Over cross and satellite dish
Ode on a North American Desk
You, unvarnished table with sun faded
The Coming of Rain
When rain comes at the end of a long dry summer
Flower Child
I'll think of her some night when the dogwoods are bare
End of Summer
Days cool like a bath we've fallen asleep in,
the only grace
you cannot answer
Talk
A tamarack tree is a tough judge
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
