Ashes, too, are fire
The unwell child looks for sleep beside me. Slow
poetry
Northern phoenix
The diving duck, cold above it
Hard Harvest
In the morning, the reality of seeds
The Tenth Anniversary of my Father's Barn
When my father was eighty-four he build a barn,
Selling Home
Cut losses as hosrt as you can:
vii
For the first time all week thunder approaches
June
The leaves have become the size of bullfrogs
Regina
On the approcahes to her 100th birthday
Artificial Reef
Tail lights like aortic valves
Fruit flies and clouds
Fruit flies manifest space, space thick with odours
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
