Poetry
Winter 1941
The Dowser
An inkling only, whisper in the bonesOf strange weather on the way,Twitch of the eyelid, shadow of a passing bird.It is coming some time soon. What? or who? An inkling […]
Poetry
Winter 1941
Picture Galleries
Strolling, guidebook in hand, along the varnished parquetWe meet the calm of opium in the long galleries, An under-water dream, a closedWorld whose people live in frames, the flames of their […]