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Poems

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  • Inside the guts of fresh fish, just hauled up | Shall we praise the girls who will not come down | It’s about water that didn’t lose its shine

    Inside the guts of fresh fish, just hauled up

  • Three Poems

    Last night R—, who I stole

  • This Moment

    You know when darkness seems to pour

  • POSTSCRIPT

    You’re wasting time. Your lilac needs pruning. By the shed,

  • Undelivered letter from the Rev. Charles Smale to The Times, 1874 | Xiuhmolpilli, or The Binding of the Years, November 1507*

    We have spent too long debating Darwin in these pages

  • Mantra Post- Storm Desmond

    After thirty-six hours indoors while Desmond

  • Mr. Blake’s Skin Don’t Dirt

    Because the vanishing point hovers

  • Head of a Woman with the Horns of a Ram

    I used to curse the sidewalk ice

  • from Landscapes on a Train

    There once was a church. There once was a steeple. These things fall into

  • Three Poems

    It’s good to see him young again,

  • Called to Lapse

    And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears

  • Outhouse with Maggots

    Look at us. Please. Do not run away.