Horizon Note
Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. —W.B. Yeats […]
Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. —W.B. Yeats […]
Today, as the locals love to say,
is so cold the wolves ate the sheep for the wool.
I open the bag.
Blessed are you, maidens of the one hundred and eighty afternoons
You of the cough at the first inhale
1/ Emerald mounds rise from the deep, their white shoulders shedding turquoise waters. When we scoop the wet sand fine
for michael p. sometimes when drunk feeling young again limes & mint rum & white sugar in mid-laugh i look out of
vi. A cyclone smashed into Madagascar, hit the island a second time three days later; a ferry sinking. The news