Review by Deborah Fleming Southern China, Tibet, Thailand, and Qatar are some places Diana Woodcock has called home. What we learn in her new
Leaving Rhode Island White coral, lightless chandeliers, ship’s rigging etched in scrimshaw: last night’s wet snow weighs on the trees, keys of an old
Water, heating, is a different beast, a roar unlike woodland streams–unmusical, a galaxy of molecules brought to boil, screaming tiny lobsters (I imagine). We’ve