As soon as we read the first stanza of Annette Volfing's poem Run, we knew we wanted to publish her in The Passionate Transitory: 'She had hoped for a hare. / Just one, something fast and mad / ripping the moon-damp fields, / a thumper like herself . . .' She sees the world with a delightfully fresh eye, and her poems capture moments with imagistic precision. We love her description of a garden 'creaking' under the snow in her poem Whiteout, and her image of muntjacs stepping out of a cloud in Run has visionary power.
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| Annette Volfing |
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