1On The Riverbank our tongues were dyed with the tribal patterns of graffiti cavatinas.

1Don't Build Me a Railroad we can dream, despite the thunder, of pixies and ravens.

2Your Hand Over Mine On The Rail before the sunrise rouses heartbreaks and birdsong.

1Toga Party goddesses, bough-anklets shimmering and as ready as wildcats.

2After The Exams we raised our voices with blank stanzas of grapevines and champagne.

1Almanac I would have those gala-spirited, ruby-spangled hallucogenics discolour and die.

4Removing The Anchors it's the same signposts every step of the way: seventy, falling rocks, cattle crossing, no hard shoulder for fifty yards.

2The Distance Between Saturn and Earth absences, digressions and discourses.

2Poseidon before you became its deity, with sharp bones piercing your translucent skin.

4The Man Who Sold Irises A downtrodden Sunday – Market Day, and as usual that forbidding kiosk biodegrades.