The Levels Drop
The cars snap at my back wheel, buzz my heels: my muscles, hard though they have grown, no shield. The cars snap. Trapdoor spiders, they lunge in,
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- 1074 reads
Zero per cent interest.
It wasn't a fair contest
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- 1160 reads
Faith Tree
I write a poem about the North There's a dead sheep I don't know what it means It's Ireland says my apple My orchard My son The one who fells me with his clarity
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- 796 reads
HOMELESS
My contribution to the Homel;ess debate.
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- 1122 reads
Double-Agent
counterspy hooked to its medulla, it adjusts this way, that
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- 1151 reads
The Three Halves of Martyn Manning--Chapter One: Long Crendon
Tom and Janet meet for dinner, and Martyn's fate is decided.
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- 2698 reads
The Forms
The forms walk around day after day, and they always move the same, and they love that moving—they move along with everything else that's been placed above the ground.
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- 388 reads
Losing Schwartz
Schwartz called me. He wanted to show me the device he'd finished. He said it took you away. I said that sounded fascinating, and agreed to join him.
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- 398 reads
Hell's right here.
When there is only fear.
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- 718 reads