Thistle

These thirty-seven poems are eccentric in the true meaning of the word off-centre. Their titles, bearing the names of weeds, flowers, herbs, trees, are merely points of departure. "How hard can it be," the poet asks, "to lie down in the green / mussed bed of the senses ... In clover." Whether it's clover or rue, aspen or moss, the reader is invited into that rumpled but rich bed.