Lisbon Wake to the bustle smell cinnamon – sound of an accordion played by a woman with sewn eyes; Square...
Poison We made our way down Horse Dale warmed by early spring sunshine saw nothing of hares, rabbits, deer, seldom...
My life as an onion dry skins for compost layers of meaning rings of time faster than a tree cut...
Lust in the Time of Covid How can he not sneak out to meet her through the darkened streets his...
Boluisce I root my fingers, burying them back and down. A twist into black, acidic soil, deeper than anything man-made....
TOBY’S SOLILOQUY To think what stands against me still is not the harm of falling off a ladder at two-storey...
Dandelion Sun A child’s sun finds a dream in young eyes. In blinks of dandelion eclipses, refracted light reflects on...
Somewhere in the Blue Majestic. I imagine you proud out there, somewhere high on an Appalachian trail, where the boulders...
AT THE KITCHEN TABLE The late spring snow catches us off-guard, drifts against the henhouse wall, blots out the distant...
‘Tick-tock, tick-tock’ goes the clock in the bedroom he shares with no-one. He sees that it is time to rise...
There is a long dusty Kenyan road that carries me to you, Forging a likeness to the same reddened particulate...
You will ask—name the mushrooms on the grounded log And the anatomies of the shifting clouds. Tell me these fifty-one shells on...