There are many areas where the poets have threaded in the past; there are poems so meaningful and so rhythmic, but little did ...

The week the world began, someone was fishing—water, fish, wind, wave. It was God in those blue-gray mornings, then woman and man. Eden’s prayers wove through air: early, grateful Amens. This poem ...

So his friends decided to organise one final farewell outing – a small fishing trip together. I guess my mum “suggested” that I be brought along. I expected my brother to object to having ...