Consolation poem In a meadow of red campion beside a wood in mossy quiet, a boy and girl leap into the air, wave sticks, make Maurice Sendak faces, are suspended forever between earth and sky.       Charlie Hill is a critically...

      Lobster If my father were home, the larder would be full of brown paper bags bursting with over-ripe mangoes, purple-tipped artichokes, dead pheasant hanging, packets of stinking cheese, figs split and spilling seed, and sometimes I would be...

      Afternoon Walk   I went out for my afternoon walk, and dreamed of no man’s land: a Bir Tawil, a terra nullius fort; I went out for my afternoon walk: orchids bloomed on pseudobulbs ― pink, yellow and vanilla to sport; I went out for my afternoon...

      Referendum I throw the ballpoint pen away. She hits the carpet with her stick and says she wants it back. I offer her another one but, no, she wants the one she’s always used. I check my watch and roll my eyes and marvel at her stubbornness, her...

Things They Tell You your mom tells you when you’re six years old that if one person says something is wrong with you get a second opinion but if two people say the same thing consider that they might be right she tells you people can see inside of you they’ll figure...

    I am the Groupie I stalk Frink’s warrior –  London, Liverpool, Swindon, Chicago.  He entices me into art galleries and sculpture parks in the pouring rain. I want to know the dreams that curl up in his bones, the length of his longing, depth of his...