Warren Woessner
What’s the buzz and the click? / My song of course, / though no one but I have ever tried to sing it.
A poem in memory of Flip Harrington.
The Black Skimmer working its way / close to shore — too close / for the Red Knots that arrived / last night from Argentina.
Black Jack Pine explodes into crows that, leaving, leave next to nothing behind.
As inaccessible now as Atlantis before it sank in the Sound.
A red pickup hugs the white line.