Mute Swans
And the departures: the mute swans flying out of the dawn.
poetry
Bokuseki*
Iris blades cut through the last ice on the pond.
I'll Be There
It's not so much how can I leave it
No Demands
Whenever it is convenient, he says,
Slug F**K, Remembering Ted Hughes in Vancouver, August 1986
Transporting
Light Out Till Late
Night of nesting dolls,
Absorption III
It's not that the leg of a clothes moth couldn't break
Blizzard
A short walk home but in the detonated air the porch light's a lozenge
Object Lessons: Grace
The floor--wood plank, bereft of polish,
Birdwatching During The Playoffs
All beak, the plaintive peeps
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
