Impressions of a year Our single shipwreck, the translucent floor through which we’ll peer at the vacant room below our own… — Paul Celan...

Even in the ruined places, woods are still present, enriching the world with mulch and invisible spores. This is the not-speak refuge:...

(21) Swimming always attaches her to joy, intimate gladness strung from each stroke. And the water bends back, its skin—green and blue...

(20) From a window, a woman watches the lowering sun throw shadows across a forest in Gotland. Near Chicago, a landscape architect jogs...

(19) Have I spoken to anyone today? Mornings are best, walking our area. Before this I would affair (not that I’d last the number of...

(18) My life is the window, a rectangle of dark air. Thunderstorms, a new record. Ceiling-to-floor windows save us — I hop to the light,...

(17) I’m stuck, like a windless cloud, as uninspired as my thin, uncut, uncoloured hair. For now, all I can do is mourn the loss of our...

(16) Shadow every time there is light. I would very much like to go unseen across the lens, to prep, equip ICUs. But I don’t think we’re...

(15) Supermarket Blues Teenage kids going through the kitchen like locusts; one more risky trip. Stasis These are the still days, their...

(14) Outside my window, a trawler courses through the ocean, too unconscionably near, electronically pursuing the depths, fraying...

(12) i.m. rhys were there blessings enough in your life? your raspy-skinned hands, lips needing balm, right at my feet, you, arriving via...

i.m. George Floyd (11) From the marrow in the marrow: the start. –Thomas Lux Was he pushed? I am angry nearly every day. Can you hear me?...

(10) Ambling down the lane to give the beach a sniff; hi's to five, and I love them all – the fella chatting to his dog, his dog, the...

(9) Tide is in, all I see is water. Possession is nine responses to what? A prick of a guy does a 200-mile trip to share it. How do you...

(8) In the space between the termite-riddled wall and the draughty rafters on a faraway farm, when I was four coiled an invisible threat...

(7) The hearse driver accelerates, whips clear of the potholes, and the sedate procession is forced to chase after him, dipping and...

(6) The desert is a flat stretch, colour-faded. We’re location-scouting on a road that tastes of direction. There is beauty in all this...

(5) What the Man-Moth fears most he must do. –Elizabeth Bishop How did we get from a boy in a check dressing-gown and Jedi sword…to here?...

(4) I was sort of adrift. Extremely strict and fully compliant, like footprints. The runners are apparently huge. Backlogs bite the...

(3) Either that or I’m a boat. Usually I feel whoosh. Cut down the bookcase, bottles of whiskey. That’s how a car drives down here, very...