Prone
Have we turned away from all true openings
Manicom, David
(When at last you arrive)
At the ends of the earth, gaunt, cormorants dive
The Smallness Between the Stars
Somewhere the red reveals conclusively orange,
The Late Qing
One leaf, torn from my saddle-stitched
Reading Anglo-Saxon When Spring Comes Early
Aquiver after the downward plunge, firelit silver -
From The Late Qing
One leaf, torn from my saddle-stitched
September Gale with High Theory
Windy all day and now through a restless night
Under the Champlain Sea
Five hundred feet above the flags and houses
Persistance
A white basin is refilled, dawn follows dawn.
Separated
Beyond reach, days of winter rain into graining snow.
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Current Issue: No. 301
