Epigenesis

The moon leavens. Clumps of petrified potash gleam like fists in the furrow corrugation. Gymnosperm spills in the couch grass. Cropheld and fallow there is more beneath the sole than upturned by [...]

The Rhythm

It is all a rhythm, from the shutting door, to the window opening, the seasons, the sun’s light, the moon, the oceans, the growing of things, the mind in men personal, recurring in them again, [...]