| by Francis Geyer from Ebb-tide Now you have no word for me I bring your bitter silence here where the sea rustles from the land from All Souls Inhuman-human presences swarm to be lighted candle's flame, in metaphors of silence beg a human syllable, a name. from Alter Ego Who stands beside me still, nameless, indifferent |
by Gwen Harwood from Fever But who would trouble to flesh the unstaged reality of Kröte's dreams? Someone. He wakes to see one of his pupils standing close to him, a thin child whose plain features, unformed as yet, could be ugly or beautiful. |