Charlotte Street, Saint John
Wrapped in neon ribbons wrinkled in wet pavement
poetry
Intermission
The last page of the first book
Poem
We two were moving points
Megalopolis
He tried to tell the story of his loss.
Untitled
I am near my midnight, rooting dog-like
The Mask
It is not I
Granny
The cupola was faded green;
Phonograph Needle
The world was spinning beneath his pointed head;
Street Portraits, Saint John
Portraits in black-shingle frames
The Half Moment
When old-year leaves are blown aside
Pages
Current Issue: No. 302
