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,

Zero per cent interest.

It wasn't a fair contest

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

HOMELESS

My contribution to the Homel;ess debate.
Cherry

Double-Agent

counterspy hooked to its medulla, it adjusts this way, that

The Three Halves of Martyn Manning--Chapter One: Long Crendon

Tom and Janet meet for dinner, and Martyn's fate is decided.

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.

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.

Hell's right here.

When there is only fear.

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