it’s one of those centre-strip wishing wells surrounded by lawns in increments of neat, neater, neatest with nice old trees too, their b...

Your letter came, Irene It rose up through the thorning patch And flowered Robert's grave I — know you spoke proud I saw the name of...

You find me in the secret place, that corner of Rodin’s woods where his statues begin to thin, forlorn in a sparseness of tourists who ne...

There, on a bough of wattle jutting over water, a little azure kingfisher, Ceyx azureus , sits. Blue as a summer sky, bronze-breaste...

We watch them come, from Cup Day on, The caravans and tents. They’ll all be here on Boxing Day. The foreshore will be dense. They’re he...

He gives the clothes back to them. They are not really his. He walks back into the snow — the avalanches — they have broken him many time...

morning has to come at some point. you are the sole pedestrian measuring the length of the body trailing your shadow under the street ...

After a painting by Frida Kahlo She hasn’t read a book in seven years he doesn’t like the light on if she gets in before him     he says...

Every day, memories place your name over morning. The dust settles on the empty side of the bed. My chest hollow as a pin-pricked egg. ...

there is a crack running the length of Main Street; when it rains the crack fills and flows like a river. Tonight it is raining Oil slick...

supplicant green tip to eager root/gloved hand complete like a slammed door/dead phone/totalled car weeds spread quietly while you ...

Play Handel’s ‘Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’ or ‘Zadok the Priest’. As you enter the building take a scoop of my ashes and throw me...

The little girl – except she’s not so little – Says to the young man, Your Eyes Are blue as the sun in winter. He pretends not to believe...

You are the fold my scarf makes when it falls across the chair as I undress. My pulse was a string your voice picked. I bared my thr...

The register in the gullet is a fist. Held by the muscle of unmourned things a duct aches, with the prayer's shudder in a nook of the ...

Who doesn't want to scoop up A slickly flabby school of tadpoles? To run their oily, knuckle-shaped heads Like balloons squeezed too ...

Well, since you asked: I would like to climb atop a fine-and-dandelion and with an exhalation and a carefully positioned makeshift sail...

When a designer is laying out a newsletter, and her client gives her a bunch of amateur photographs to include for which there is little roo...

I am new here A stranger to the community but the BBQ of friendship is sizzling on my hot plate I’m a foreigner in a green and pink ga...

When I die I want everyone to fill jam jars With their tears So those who loved me most Will be known. There will be a PH test To sign...