#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women
The moon lies on the river like a drop of oil. The children come to the banks to… of their wounds and bruises. The fathers who gave them their wo…
1992 1) I was born in a Free City, nea… 2) In the year of my birth, money… confetti. A loaf of bread cost a m… course I do not remember this.
Who is that man in black, walking away from us into the distance? The painter, they say, took a long… finding his vision of the world. The mermaids, if that is what they…
If an inaudible whistle blown between our lips can send him home to us, then silence is perhaps the sound of spiders breathing
Speaking of marvels, I am alive together with you, when I might ha… alive with anyone under the sun, when I might have been Abelard’s… or the whore of a Renaissance pope
This is not fantasy, this is our l… We are the characters who have invaded the moon, who cannot stop their computers. We are the gods who can unmake
For Lucy, who called them “ghost… Someone was always leaving and never coming back. The wooden houses wait like old wi… along this road; they are everywhe…
I. Insomnia The bulb at the front door burns a… If it were a white rose it would t… through another endless night. The moon knows the routine;
You have read War and Peace. Now here is Sister Carrie, not up to Tolstoy; still it will second the real world: predictable planes and levels,
Jenny, your mind commands kingdoms of black and white: you shoulder the crow on your left… the snowbird on your right; for you the cinders part
What happened is, we grew lonely living among the things, so we gave the clock a face, the chair a back, the table four stout legs
For Linda Foster Because we used to have leaves and on damp days our muscles feel a tug, painful now, from when roots
The laughter of women sets fire to the Halls of Injustice and the false evidence burns to a beautiful white lightness It rattles the Chambers of Congre…
In 1936, a child in Hitler’s Germany, what did I know about the war in… Andalusia was a tango on a wind-up gramophone,
Sometimes, when the light strikes… and pulls you back into childhood and you are passing a crumbling ma… completely hidden behind old willo… or an empty convent guarded by hem…