#AmericanWriters
How astonishing it is that languag… and frightening that it does not q… God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we… Get it wrong. We say bread and it… to which nation. French has no wor…
Every morning the sad girl brings… and two lambs laggardly to the top… past my stone hut and onto the mou… She turned twelve last year and it… for the father to take her out of…
The Poles rode out from Warsaw ag… Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in… A magnitude of beauty that allows… And yet this poem would lessen tha… The bravery. Say it’s not courage…
Suddenly this defeat. This rain. The blues gone gray And the browns gone gray And yellow
In the small towns along the river nothing happens day after long day… Summer weeks stalled forever, and long marriages always the same… Lives with only emergencies, birth…
The fox pushes softly, blindly thr… between the liver and the stomach.… and hesitates. Considers and then… Trying to escape the mildness of o… Goes deeper, searching for what re…
All this windless day snow fell into the King’s Garden where I walked, perfecting and gro… abandoning one by one everybody: randomly in love with the paradise
Once upon a time I was sitting ou… watching twilight in Umbria when a… out of the bakery with the bread h… She did not know what to do. Alre… by being thirteen and just that su…
Of course it was a disaster. The unbearable, dearest secret has always been a disaster. The danger when we try to leave. Going over and over afterward
We find out the heart only by dism… the heart knows. By redefining the… we find a morning that comes just… We can break through marriage into… By insisting on love we spoil it,…
Thrushes flying over the lake. Ni… Yes, my King. Paris hungry and le… America falling into history. Yes… along the Seine when I was always…
Our heart wanders lost in the dark… Our dream wrestles in the castle o… But there’s music in us. Hope is… but the angel flies up again takin… The summer mornings begin inch by…
I’d walk her home after work buying roses and talking of Bechst… She was full of soul. Her small room was gorged with hea… and there were no windows.
Woke up suddenly thinking I heard… Rushed through the dark house. Stopped, remembering. Stood looki… out at the bright moonlight on con…
Love is apart from all things. Desire and excitement are nothing… It is not the body that finds love… What leads us there is the body. What is not love provokes it.