Poetry
Jazz
when is it day when / is it day when / is it day / when / is it / day / / ADAMS, Richard, 57, male; sev catatonic st /...
Your Parka Trimmed in Fur
We are surrounded by milky coffee / steaming out of cups on white saucers. / A bit of bread, blackberry jam. / Gloves float by the café window, carried / off by...
Crossing the High Level Bridge
A seagull jumps off into a wind that cracks it open over the nestled knot / of some inner-bird hinge that moves like the ugly joisting of a jaw, / /...
Reply to a Footnote
__ / 1 Obfuscating , you say, to devils like me / who reads you? / / His accent unholy as vampires / contaminating your virginal Holy Words / ...
… and Trembling
After Kierkegaard / / He draws the blood out of my limbs / like handkerchiefs pulled from a sleeve. / He presses the tint out of my skin. / I watch...
Blood is Blood
JEW ARAB Bullets. Hail. This brutal rain, This brutal rain, a prologue. a prologue. We are We are the Chosen the desert dwellers of...
Harvest
what turns up is not / always what we expect / / among the new potatoes / cranberry glass sharded / porcelain the banded trunks / rattling like...
Alberta, 1983
she is still young enough / to remember the bougainvillea / on the eaves old men / shuffling in the breezeway / how paan dyes the teeth / red &...
Bread
I grind my grandmother’s bones to a powder / add a little water from the blue glacier / spit and stir, knead in dry leaves / the yellow fat from new cream...