Eurydice, at The End [Ovid, X: 1-85] by helen jenks There is always a river, that first boundary of shape, preventing the crossing. See...

I Could Not by m. speaker Would you meet me, love? I should not, beloved, I do not think In the house, the on up North. With the music,...

Not Quite A Graveyard Elegy by patrick wright And now the garden with its rockery and swings — ghostings of past summers. Everything...