This being the Case
One can not pray for a free thing;
poetry
Angelic Salutation
Out of ether halothane and drugged-down brain-sate they gave me q.i.d,
My daughter imitates A.Y. Jackson's "Road to Baie St. Paul"
The life locked in pastoral: Ramshackle barns the colour of varnish,
Even Gershwin
Even Gershwin in his run of rhapsody
You said I should write more love poems and
I said, I'm sorry, but I've been thinking about
Striking Distance
Beak resting like a sickle
Bloom
For one week in late June, the ocean full.
Red Currant Jelly
We've got our backs to the wind;
Third Stroke
Three times. What he was once
Some night
when you waken to perfect darkness and plush coolness
Pages
Current Issue: No. 302
