Like wallabies we hurtle This way and that Unworried whether the world Be round or flat.
He was an example of anti-nominal determinism, though he was friendly in manner, kindly explaining that my light headedness
In some last inventory, I’ll have lost a season, through the occlusion of summer by another hemisphere.
Under the Miami skyline, beneath bits of trash collected at the margin of the Florida current, a tiny female creature struggles on a warm, moonless night in April. She is only six millimeters long, opaque, with a head larger than her body...
Across three fences the lights and noise of a party at anchor; a paddock dusty with stars; our lit-up talk forgettable.
A summer rain front laces a trailing hat of mist around the headland’s mountain: a saucer of mist scraping the treetops hanging over rock outcrops
Alec, I said you’d be around by stratagem or shift looking for a lift to the somewhere burial ground
For the subsistence fishermen of the Kuna Yala Islands, the greatest danger is the encroaching ocean they depend on.
In back wards, sea spray thinning ash as the city turned from itself, the ocean which brought it, faces off
He woke me late last night. He sat on the edge of my bed with a bag in his lap. When I rolled over to turn the lamp on, he put the bag to my chest.
We need to go now, he said.
This time I didn’t question.
