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Stuck in a yellowed silence then simply stuck one post-catastrophe. Loves, leaves, that which was come apart in between. Colours now darker. Landscape other. Which worlds unsung which ones to come in that expanse the singular bloom: you: committed cadence of undoing. Some afternoons a wash of Flemish light flame-lined they flared across the iron […]

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Eveningsong Slim sun-edged thumb Of Roman brick Umbered, undone This late valley dozing Under a late spring sun You still want what will not last Still before the blue At evening, sound, come * (this poem originally appeared in Oxford’s halfcircle poetry journal, Issue 2)

The presence of air

Without my having noticed Something Had changed Not that I could leave But could no longer stay Inside the small A glimpse, overheard Perfect my death word    


My contribution to Anke Becker’s “Heimweh” project has at long last finally arrived..thank you for reading

Pleasure’s wreath no flower

Pleasure’s wreath no flower What time we had most Likely wasted & no way Now of getting back Afternoon adagio Into evening as the ever August into wine Straw burned winds warm Azalea, oleander & ruin * (this poem first appeared in Oxford’s halfcircle poetry journal, Issue 2)


Thankfully my own contribution to my good friend Anke Becker’s project Fernweh has finally arrived to her in distant Nebraska…I urge you to also take a moment to view her own work