

Poetry
Boy’s Sleep
All day a boy plunges his hands into his pockets. Tickets, tape, crystallized stones, a…

Poetry
Binsey Poplars Felled
My aspens dear, whose airy cage quelled,Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,All felled,…

Poetry
Because of Libraries We Can Say These Things
She is holding the book close to her body, carrying it home on the cracked…

Poetry
Aimless Love
This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,I fell in love with a wrenand later…