Now skim the shock of sky that split without us, sinking through the plaiting of the reids: You slept, and whispered all your silence out, the shoreline sang out threats in choking heaves. The houses, polder fizzing in the ear. …

She creaked beneath the weight that taught His skin; His tense electric ghost to be put out amongst the ropes and ladders of His doubt; He’d shake to let his body climb back in. They pushed her organs into disbelief …

for Dolly Coming home to all of most alarm, there across the shaving edge, & back stuck in, be shored & built back, snared to granted joy or tensile pins. If you are there, oh there again is us, colliding …

[1]So in your silent still small throat my broken voice may sing. I’d say a mile off the shore is the wind farm. One hundred and sixty eight windmills. I wonder what their sound will be. As they were being …

In single minute gulps like propranolol the night sways, steadies to a short halt. And the neck stops. Stops wide open to the space it now appears to be in: Belgium, on the north coast where it now seems that …

My young domestic lifeline came to sit exhausted, by the ashes of its lot for what these boys so bravely now commit when life itself is grounded in their rot? If I would be the guillotine, its rungs the head …