In the Church
I once lit all the candles
poetry
Soaring
In the dream I saw a yellow moth.
This Summer Morning
Along the roadbank
Boyhood
Raleigh said on the nightwatch
Echo
standing outside the evening
November
the sun so low
Artemis
Tangled in the tall pine, the vine and breadfruit
The Poet as Witch
Under the ringed moon, I finger the dungheap.
The Death of Bandleader
On all those O'Hara nights
Wednesday Matinee
The hat fits the skull like a glove these
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Current Issue: No. 301
