the hush between pauses falls away into a mist of things unsaid it is an opaqueness a barrier between the thought and the word we did not dare to hear a...

thoughts from the ceramics workshop the first day of spring eludes us while drab November malingers at the workshop window someone is back from the ski slopes someone else is off...

Part One: Drought Cyrene’s slopes are draped with marble pillars fallen columns cross the paths and grass grows free of traffic a tiled bath drained of water flashes blue with lapis...

something in the mind tells me I am overheating singed neurons frazzle in the brain’s map the pillow is a lump of rock the mattress a tarmac road my blanket is...

a racket in the tall cypress splits the sweep of its upper limbs a ragged etching of graffiti like a crown of thorns a squall of crows squabbles for a lodging...

conversation with a fisherman: the deer morph from leafy screens shy, reticent and canny to the changed air the mole seeks its chance to forage pragmatic swimmer carried by strokes meant for...