My daughter imitates A.Y. Jackson's "Road to Baie St. Paul"
The life locked in pastoral: Ramshackle barns the colour of varnish,
poetry
Angelic Salutation
Out of ether halothane and drugged-down brain-sate they gave me q.i.d,
This being the Case
One can not pray for a free thing;
Last Picnic
A long concourse of light
'Beginning the World'
First burial: my doll. The second
Logged
they say
Field
Field.
That Eye
Like sheep in the front of a ferry or
The Grindstone
The grindstone unattached
At Night Up Her the Road is Different
At night up here the road is different,
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Current Issue: No. 298
