The ice plant is not in flower:
it extends, a springy floor
over the rocks and the sand
for whoever rests here and
watches the sea's explosion
below this point: crash, crash. On
waves, farther out, the gulls roost.
Cold hard light, from this I must
always begin, to see clear
the look of mid-December.
Nothing unifies the place
but the chilly blown dryness.
In late spring the ice plant will
break into mild stars: meanwhile
for this weed, to endure is
to grow. Three flat surfaces
make each of the leaves seem a
stem, bulging and greenish-grey,
though they are like leaves pointed.
Snap them, they are moist inside.
To read the rest of this piece, purchase the issue.
Bowden Broadwater, Ciao
Hughes Rudd, The Lower Room
Jan Gerhard Toonder, The Spider
Donald Davie, Two Poems
X. J. Kennedy, Two Poems
Daniel Langton, The Marriage of Anne
Lewis Turco, Dream of a House
Blair Fuller, Text, Lars Bo Portfolio
Hans Beck, Contents Page
Michael Biddle, Illustration
Lars Bo, Portfolio, Cover
Ernst Fuchs, Illustrations