W.B. Yeats
A year and years have gone
poetry
Scared
A great wind groand among the oaks
Rationalization
I couldn't really touch her cheek -
A sumac poem
Hock-deep in crust
Broken, but not remade
Within the chill cathedral of his mind
Roads
It was the night when we lived at the farm he came.
Woodcut Fiddlehead
Groping
The carolled angels fade away.
Hope
Through purple dark and sifting sands
Miss Emily
She lives alone,her giant vine-hung dwelling
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Current Issue: No. 301
