Jeffrey Bowman, Sven Ehmann and Robert Klanten, eds. Published by Gestalten, Berlin, 2014.
A carp paid the wind
To build a wall —
it’s ice ‘tween him and me.
And there he sits in his dark,
knowing I can’t see.
But I’ve cut a hole
and drawn a chair:
I’ve the patience of a tree.
Comes a thaw,
I’ll crash through that wall
and face to face we’ll be.
I look at you, you look at me
Just around the bend
Thy twisting Word
On a tree
flipped the earth
and flung the sea.
His waves in space
are coursing still.
They have a lot of
time to kill.
Road and waterway
Modern country gentry
Lines of demarcation 2015
Landing in the snow at Friday Harbor
We’ll not miss the island.
When we’re near, it will beckon.
A line of lights will point the way,
and we’ll have more than
this roar and blue buffeting —
more to guide us
than the glow of little dials.
The people in darkness
