There is only one question you have to answeron the long and winding trail overcountless harvest moons — which cannot be met…
Pink skies. A touch of fuchsia. Shouldn’t all horizonsbe stacked this way?Shall I chase Heaney through…
See the dumb tree stare across the horizon& look across a killer highway to where sand goes on for miles.
Here, let me bolster the craneof your indifferencelet me toss in a flare whereold bark has…
We are adrift from each otherby two worlds — both a language — though connected by a wide grid funnelling…
She walks in fronta yellow bear onthe banks of the Odra — new, luxuriant camel coattrailing an…