Catherine Eisner

            This Sunday morning             no church bells but the sound of             Tibetan wind chimes See also Three Haikus ...

              Death  bides alone, Accursed, the Unbesought,                                     Within the Crawl-Space of Life’s Edifice ...

                           Are you not weary of ardent ways,                             Lure of the fallen seraphim?                     ...

Akadé, esteemed scribe of his village, seated cross-legged at his customary station in the square beneath its remaining shade-tree, consider...

‘It’s all very well, Catherine,  putting your head above the parapet, ’ my tutor said at that final seminar, ‘yet when it comes to cogent ar...