Potential Titles: Julia Bouwsma

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Disappearing at last in silence's shawl - Julia Bouwsma "Annie in the Boat"

This crocheted fog I wrap close - Julia Bouwsma "Annie in the Boat"

The curled husks of yesterday's warmth - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, because you tell me to, I begin again"

With my dreams still in my mouth - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, I wake wishing my body"

A charm of river stones and coiled hair - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, I wake wishing my body"

The mice ransack our rations - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, in winter my camp on the hill becomes"

Braids itself up the woods - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, in winter my camp on the hill becomes"

Brighter than a coyote's eye - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, in winter my camp on the hill becomes"

Until there is no room for breath - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, when I said all I ever wanted was land"

Hear you loudest in darkness - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, when I said all I ever wanted was land"

Burrowed a fever under my skin - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, when I said all I ever wanted was land"

In a tangle of strange sheets - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, when I said all I ever wanted was land"

Ash woven into a distant sky - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, you say all our bones are made of paper"

Until horizon spills our of our mouths - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, you say all our bones are made of paper"

A shard of absence sharpens itself - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, you say all our bones are made of paper"

Wind salts our throats - Julia Bouwsma "Dear ghosts, you say all our bones are made of paper"

The sound of your body forgetting - Julia Bouwsma "Each Morning Drowns in Open Air"

White as bone-bleached sun - Julia Bouwsma "Each Morning Drowns in Open Air"

Silence is a muscle you open - Julia Bouwsma "Each Morning Drowns in Open Air"

Grows tall as a granite house - Julia Bouwsma "Feeble-Minded"

A hollowed-out candle left burning - Julia Bouwsma "Feeble-Minded"

Trace this trail of quartz - Julia Bouwsma "I Walk My Road at Dusk"

Wear your moment of dusk - Julia Bouwsma "I Walk My Road at Dusk"

The blue hour from which there is no escape - Julia Bouwsma "I Walk My Road at Dusk"

The dog rising from its bed of dust - Julia Bouwsma "I Walk My Road at Dusk"

Becomes the prism of fracture - Julia Bouwsma "Interview with the Dead"

The helix of departure unfurling - Julia Bouwsma "Interview with the Dead"

Wear silence as a tattered shirt - Julia Bouwsma "Interview with the Dead"

Spread an octave into the sea - Julia Bouwsma "Interview with the Dead"

The rubble between our teeth - Julia Bouwsma "Interview with the Dead"

A people sculpted of wind - Julia Bouwsma "Interview with the Dead"

A people carved of gravel and dust - Julia Bouwsma "Interview with the Dead"

Around three times like a tornado - Julia Bouwsma "Lottie Marks Dreams Escape"

Scatter myself empty as a torn dress - Julia Bouwsma "Lottie Marks Dreams Escape"

Every acre I cross a pearl in my mouth - Julia Bouwsma "Lottie Marks Dreams Escape"

Rusty fishhook still lucky - Julia Bouwsma "Midden"

Shoulder-strung rhythm of panic - Julia Bouwsma "Paddling the Storm"

The soft comfort of flour between my fingers - Julia Bouwsma "The Schoolteacher Answers the Call"

A tornado of chalk dust and sunbeam - Julia Bouwsma "The Schoolteacher Answers the Call"

Until I am hollow as a bone pipe - Julia Bouwsma "The Schoolteacher Answers the Call"

A geography of peeled sunlight and cedar bark - Julia Bouwsma "The Tray of Spades"

History cracks our spines - Julia Bouwsma "Untold"

The keening of dust on hardwood - Julia Bouwsma "Upon Opening Another Folded Day"


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