On the wing

The eager wind is screaming for my bones. It dreams of scattering ashes over rock and soon will have its way. The wind strikes sailor, can...

The sun lifts the branches of the elm trees into the flock of perched sparrows. It wipes night from the wings of gulls, and, where...

                             For Janice The poem ends, and we return to the beach to let the moon affect us. Edgartown lies silent, slee...

Alternate photo for the cover of Blonde on Blonde He stands at the mouth of the empty alley. The wind makes a nest of his hai...

The ochre of the island on his charts mingles with his wife's yellow hair; neither deserts him, rounding Coffin Rock, guiding the ...