Striking Distance
Beak resting like a sickle
poetry
Bloom
For one week in late June, the ocean full.
Red Currant Jelly
We've got our backs to the wind;
Painters
Piebald, thin as ladders, perpetually
Truth and Invention
Messengers known and unknown to us moved though the valley.
Third Stroke
Three times. What he was once
Wild Honeysuckle
Schooldays, she'd see him off saying,
Some night
when you waken to perfect darkness and plush coolness
The Drunk Uncle
Funny bone of every family. Wears
'Beginning the World'
First burial: my doll. The second
Pages
Current Issue: No. 298
