Marguerite Van Cook

Island No 1 This island is inhabited by turtles, Flowering shrubs linger past the drift stalks Seashells flock the debris This is the island where I forgot my sweater That summer my breasts began to grow The beach even...

Marguerite Van Cook

My hands dripped mud as we counted out ten thousand tiny oysters for seeding, but it was not the slime that disturbed me, rather it was my fear of losing count.  James anxiously  scooped the plastic pail into the mother va...

David West

Paris Cat, or, the Art of David West. I first met David West in New York. West, now as then, documents the musicians of the avant-garde, the people of the underground milieu and his experiences of urban life. His...