- 22 December 2003
I would remember the rush, a day and a night later,
crouching, sliding away from screams. At four a.m.
with an unexpected town, black water crashing
in up the shore,
Canting dark hum still rolling from my ears.
- 22 November 2003
he pecks around the others’ feet;
the neck is bulging, dark green sheet
as fitting snow to dirt do meet;
he is stranger than them all.
- 22 August 2003
this night feels like a summer night:
not like the tick, tick, tick,
of that which you cannot watch
and so no longer takes place.