This poem was written by Richard Tyler    Endings I am standing where the ground changes without asking permission.   Behind me, names loosen their grip. What we called “us” settles into memory, not gone, just no longer able to answer back.   There is a...

By Richard Tyler Before I understood grief deep in my bones, I thought it was a thing to move through. A corridor to manoeuvre. A season with a known end. I did not know it was a gathering. When a crow falls, the others come. Not to mourn, not the way we use that...