#AmericanWriters
There are places where the eye can… But not here. Here, for example,… The Piazza Navona, & here is… Overlooking the Steps & the c… Tourists. And here is the Protest…
My poem would eat nothing. I tried giving it water but it said no, worrying me. Day after day,
There is this sunny place where I… A park on a hill whose grass wants… Into dust, & would do so if it… For the rain, & the fact that… That keeps the park from flowing d…
Now that the Summer of Love has b… And the shadowy mouths of tunnels… I’m going to put the one largely f… Right in front of you so you can w… Out of an orchard in the heat of a…
My love and I are inventing a cou… can already see taking shape, as i… passing through yellow mud. But th… lem: if we put a river in the coun… and begin flooding. If we put the…
I lay my head sideways on the desk… My fingers interlocked under my ch… My eyes closed. It was a three-ro… White, with a small bell tower, an… From where I sat, on still days,…
Those twenty-six letters filling t… Compose the dark, compose The illiterate summer sky & it… One by one, above the schoolyard. If the soul had a written history,…
—The Carpathian Frontier, Octobe… —for my brother Once, in a foreign country, I was… I was driving south toward a large… For so little it had a replica, in…
My youth? I hear it mostly in the… Echoes of billiards in the pool ha… I spent it all, extravagantly, bel… My delicate touch on a cue would l… Outside the vineyards vanished und…
Sister once of weeds & a dark… In ditches reflecting the odd, Abstaining clouds that passed, &am… Their own counsel, we Were different, we kept our own co…
All night I dreamed of my home, of the roads that are so long and straight they die in the middl… among the spines of elderly weeds on either side, among the dead cat…
At Wilshire & Santa Monica I… Trying to cross the street. It wa… Was brightly lit, the opossum woul… A few steps forward, then back awa… Of moving traffic. People coming…
The trees went up the hill And over it. Then the dry grasses of the pastur… Only a kind of blonde light Settling everywhere
The plaza was so still in that mom… everything was clear, As if it had been preserved beneat… stillness, &, for a while, I did not even notice the pigeons…