Epilogue: Deer in the Garden
All qualities of mist are precise
poetry
Play of the Eyes - Elias Connetti
He waited in his cocon of rage.
Crossing a Small Bridge in Winter
once horses commanded this bridge
Each Journal an I-Land
Journals are written by lonely people,
There are Angels
There are angels with two wings,
Unicorn
The unicorn in my garden is not precisely invisible.
Face and Hands: Modigliani in the Morning
Two stories up, light springs easily
New Islands
Your rooms were all handhewn, the ample kitchen,
Archaeopteryx
In the Almuhl hills, diggers discover what they long for.
The Swan Leaving Leda
My sister stopped
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
