Poetry
…et nihil mihi deerit.The living room is over-heated, like a gaping kitchen oven-door,Long past the payoff in savory odors resulting from bowls of color.The back parlor launches its many campaigns …
The Black ArtA woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren’t enough; as if mourners and gossips and vegetables were never enough. She thinks she …
The Edges of TimeIt is at the edges that time thins. Time which had been dense and viscous as amber suspending intentions like bees unseizes them. A humming begins, apparently coming from stacks of put-off things or just in back. A racket of claims now, as …
Portrait of a BarmaidMetallic waves of people jar Through crackling green toward the barWhere on the tables chattering-whiteThe sharp drinks quarrel with the light.Those coloured muslin blinds the smiles,Shroud wooden faces …