The Eaves
The eaves are full. It is the eaves
poetry
A Necessary Blindness
Poppies who could not slip their ghosly dew
Cigarette Smoke
A hooping in the firs,
In Hell
crouched in your shadow on the rock staircase
The Dark Heart
The death we inhabit is named
The Candles
They watch the candles melt together
The Golden Knot
In the small hours of the needful night
Civil Love
Against the Queen the Queen's men
Counter Clockwise
Clocks in this house that we stop to listen to
No Second Sight
You see, I have no gift of second sight
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
