(1979)
#AmericanWriters
This celestial seascape, with whit… flying high as they want and as fa… in tiers and tiers of immaculate r… the whole region, from the highest… down to the weightless mangrove is…
This is not my home. How did I ge… be over that way somewhere. I am the color of wine, of tinta.… right claw is saffron—yellow. See,… flag. I am dapper and elegant; I…
At six o’clock we were waiting for… waiting for coffee and the charita… that was going to be served from a… —like kings of old, or like a mira… It was still dark. One foot of th…
I dreamed that dead, and meditatin… I lay upon a grave, or bed, (at least, some cold and close—bui… In the cold heart, its final thoug… stood frozen, drawn immense and cl…
Still dark. The unknown bird sits on his usual… The little dog next door barks in… inquiringly, just once. Perhaps in his sleep, too, the bir…
The art of losing isn’t hard to ma… so many things seem filled with th… to be lost that their loss is no d… Lose something every day. Accept… of lost door keys, the hour badly…
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can’t go home again. On the hills a million people,
Out on the high “bird islands,” C… the razorbill auks and the silly—l… with their backs to the mainland in solemn, uneven lines along the… while the few sheep pastured there…
I can make out the rigging of a sc… a mile off; I can count the new cones on the spruce. It is… the pale bay wears a milky skin; t… no clouds except for one long, car…
In Worcester, Massachusetts, I went with Aunt Consuelo to keep her dentist’s appointment and sat and waited for her in the dentist’s waiting room.
September rain falls on the house. In the failing light, the old gran… sits in the kitchen with the child beside the Little Marvel Stove, reading the jokes from the almanac…
On the unbreathing sides of hills they play, a specklike girl and bo… alone, but near a specklike house. The Sun’s suspended eye blinks casually, and then they wad…
From narrow provinces of fish and bread and tea, home of the long tides where the bay leaves the sea twice a day and takes
About the size of an old—style dol… American or Canadian, mostly the same whites, gray green… —this little painting (a sketch fo… has never earned any money in its…
At four o’clock in the gun-metal blue dark we hear the first crow of the firs… just below the gun-metal blue window