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if a body pushed from a precipice bounces on the way down, is the cliff face haunted, even for climbers, or just the base where the body burst apart? do places lack the will to forgive themselves for being used in harmful ways? can we find woodsy little parcels where atrocities have not been wrought? is it fair to say that atrocity stains a place? and why not, as an old baron, flickering out after a lifetime of greedy actions, pay to be buried under sanctuary tiles? nobody could accuse you of being a bad ghost then.

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Nathaniel Calhoun works to protect and restore biodiversity from his home in Aotearoa New Zealand. This takes most of his time, so he always appreciates connections and support from people who can help him with his craft and its distribution. His poems have featured in a couple dozen journals from more than ten different countries.