PoetryIn the light that steals across dead valleys like a shallow wave anything that lives has lost its solid presence the shape of life bleeds out into uncertain dust and leaves a shadow on the shadow’s stain. I have come to the west...

PoetryA hard name There were reds under the beds when we were growing up and someone at school always ridiculed my name the name of the woman spy frozen in a cold war movie. It has been a hard name to carry a hard name to explain but...