I’m currently entranced by the work of British poet Eliza O’Toole, whose work is a layering of images beyond the everyday but still rooted in an obsessively and granularly observational way to the soil, to nature and to the seasons: radical in its original sense.
This is one of her poems from the 2024 work, A Cranic of Ordinaries, published by Shearsman. It seemed fitting as we approach the Ides of March this coming Saturday.