For the Firing of the Tomb
Love, love all the bright bush burning,
poetry
Green Bud
Men marry saints, and love sweet devils
The Malcontent
But yoked am I. He drags me in the ruck
T.S.E.
When he came back to seek it after all,
The Sorrow of the Moon
The moon is weary. Drowsing far above
Antar-Tie-Tock
This is the watch that went
Reluctant Lines to the Covener of a Small-town Poetry Group
Madame, I admire your fortitude and your lavender curls.
Harbour Island
Wind-riven my alder-ringed
The Runner
Running down the street --
Poem
A woman who everywhere
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
