In Little Estuaries, Daniel Kramb goes in search for what’s fleeting between the shores.

Amid a constantly shifting sense of what can be seen, sensed, experienced, the poet probes the estuary as sphere: an opening up, a possibility.

Whittled down, like sea to stream, his poems emerge, in their own distinct form, estuary-shaped on the page.

Intricate, at times playful, always open, these unassuming, small pieces reach beyond the confines, always returning to what’s undeniable, as body.

Silt-smeared and salty, this is poetry not on landscape, but through it: formed not by what exists, but from what’s washed up within.