#EnglishWriters
From the tawny light from the rainy nights from the imagination finding itself and more than itself alone and more than alone
Rose Red’s hair is brown as fur and shines in firelight as she pre… supper of honey and apples, curds… for the bear, and leaves it ready on the hearth-stone.
The fire in leaf and grass so green it seems each summer the last summer. The wind blowing, the leaves shivering in the sun,
Brilliant, this day ' a young vi… Morning shadow cut by sharpest sci… deft hands. And every prodigy of g… whether it’s ferns or lichens or n… or impatient points of buds on spi…
“I am a landscape,” he said. “a landscape and a person walking… There are daunting cliffs there, And plains glad in their way of brown monotony. But especially
U.S. BURIED IRAQI SOL… ‘What you saw was a bunch of trenches with arms sticking out.’ ‘Plows mounted on
Though the road turn at last to death’s ordinary door, and we knock there, ready to enter and it opens easily for us,
This is the year the old ones, the old great ones leave us alone on the road. The road leads to the sea. We have the words in our pockets,
An old man whose black face shines golden-brown as wet pebbles under the streetlamp, is walking t… proportionate size, in the rain, in the relaxed early-evening avenu…
We live our lives of human passion… cruelties, dreams, concepts, crimes and the exercise of virtue in and beside a world devoid of our preoccupations, free
Some people, no matter what you give them, still want the moon. The bread, the salt,
Turn from that road’s beguiling ea… to your hunger’s turret. Enter, cl… chill with disuse, where the croak… regards from shimmering eyes your… and the drip, drip, of darkness gl…
When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abund… whispers. My presence made them
I thought I was growing wings— it was a cocoon. I thought, now is the time to step into the fire— it was deep water.
Pale, then enkindled, light advancing, emblazoning summits of palm and pine,