My doting mother calls to me from our beach blanket, “Time to go, make sure and rinse your feet!”  […]

black ski mask stretched over my wan face a black-and-white warbler weesa weesa weesa weesa weesa weesa weesa   Rounding[…]

a lunar disc hangs high in the midnight firmament it bends the sun’s radiant output over the recipient earth bathing[…]

Our Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon of poetry conduct a road trip through their oratory They conceal and then reveal[…]

By Ross Smith Rolling down the tracks towards some distant point, Coming closer, Coming closer. The vanishing point. That place[…]

Tonight I’m poling up the creek for bullfrog gigging. Here’s my gear– gig with trident prongs, lantern, bucket with aerator.[…]

“It was like a war like a scene that you see in war the guns the fire the noise it[…]