Pastoral
That sudden time I heard
poetry
Undercurrent
At low tide, we watch
Poem Pinned to a Coffin
I have bequethed the dead of night
Prospect
Perhaps some day (if we can bear
The Snake
Eve, with nylon clinging
Queen Shub-Ad
Beneath five thousand years of sand they found
The Well-Mannered Gulls
in my mind's obliquity
The Stranger
Over the restaurants, on evenings flow
The Colour of August
They sang a beautiful song. I hear
Landscape
The landscape spreads before me like a text.
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Current Issue: No. 301
