Where new writing finds its voice
Poem

Dedication

Julia Bird

with love

he wrote 

and just what 
what am I supposed to make of that
that phrase whose 

hackle-raising inexactitude 
conveys identical amounts 
of near-as-dammit nothingness 
as if I had have said 
the shirt he chose was green

spearmint
Lincoln 
British racing?

bottle, olive, pea?