The ghosts swarm. They speak as one person. Each has left something undone.

The crowd is made of little gods, and there is still no heaven.

The future is all around here.' It's a place, anyplace where we don't exist.

I know you by your willingness.

Poets tend to form loose groups - the "Romantics" or the "Imagists". And sometimes they write manifestoes in the name of these groups. This can be good. It forces the poet and the audience to think. But it can also be dangerous. It can turn into a branding device so that potential readers believe they know all they need to know once they know you've been associated with a certain group or position. It can freeze things in place. That's where thinking stops.

Carried by light, images remain while sensation is so evanescent as to be always beyond belief.

Lily Brown writes with and against things in poems that are coiled up tight as springs (or snakes). A believer in the power of the line, she writes, 'I think the plastics/and sink them' then 'Where is the sand/man hiding the dirt.' These terse, biting poems will make you look around and wonder.