Magazine

What the Trees Say at Dawn Oneduskymoon-honeyed glissandothreaded through thorned ribcagefluxed mosaic of sustained blossomrefracted in delicate chords of light probingumbra of submarine rasp grasping for a...

The Ballachulish Figure (alder wood and rough crystal c. 600 BC.) Listed among notable deaths of the era:a passenger pigeon at Loch Leven.We’re extinguishing ourselves, Cailleach.Age of Bronze, Age of Iron, Age of Decay.A taxidermy pigeon, Nestlé bottled water,celebrity chefs marking the end of an...

Finding the Vulva on a Beach    Latin-wise, as vagina, I am sheath, madefor holding life. I aman oyster shell, made for children to cup, hollow to hollow,against their ears. To press into hands of their own giants,to say, Listen, and have one towering pillar of grey and rulesabandon sense for...

Tree Mother   A prickly platinum river  cracks the bruised sky in  two. A tree mother dressed in bridal finery, arms laden with moon flowers, stands quietly, drenched in star rain. By dawn, the ground beneath her feet will be a city of broken dove wings. The day the ground turns red,  the...

Dawn  The moon has retracted its roots while the sky glows like a toaster filament. The houses below sleep. Few wake so early to the regimented pop-up of toast, the kettle’s dominant click.  The foxes are hiding to rehearse for night. The birds are part of the background. Even the insects are only...

Recovering the memory of water   You can see Africa from the high Alpujarra they sayfrom a bus window. So, I have packed cucumbers,sheep’s milk cheese, and a Conference pear. I seek a place here, where dry fields sketcha geography of separation.Everywhere, underfootis the memory of water....

Seductive seal skin is my coat – zippered for ease of removal; I slip in and out of worlds both human and mystical praying that one day my skin knots to backbone, binds as spines to published pages completing the bleary badge of a true, life-worn selkie: for I am no myth, nor fairytale fancy.