#AmericanWriters
In our family, there were two sain… my aunt and my grandmother. But their lives were different. My grandmother’s was tranquil, eve… She was like a person walking in c…
Speak to me, aching heart: what Ridiculous errand are you inventin… Weeping in the dark garage With your sack of garbage: it is n… To take out the garbage, it is you…
As a man and woman make a garden between them like a bed of stars, here they linger in the summer evening and the evening turns
A child draws the outline of a bod… She draws what she can, but it is… she cannot fill in what she knows… Within the unsupported line, she k… that life is missing; she has cut
One summer she goes into the field… stopping for a bit at the pool whe… looks at herself, to see if she detects any changes. She se… the same person, the horrible mant…
When Hades decided he loved this… he built for her a duplicate of ea… everything the same, down to the m… but with a bed added. Everything the same, including sun…
In the story of Patroclus no one survives, not even Achilles who was nearly a god. Patroclus resembled him; they wore the same armor.
The great thing is not having a mind. Feelings: oh, I have those; they govern me. I have
Don’t listen to me; my heart’s bee… I don’t see anything objectively. I know myself; I’ve learned to he… When I speak passionately, That’s when I’m least to be trust…
It came to me one night as I was… that I had finished with those amo… to which I had long been a slave.… my heart murmured. To which I res… awaited us, hoping, at the same ti…
Now, in twilight, on the palace st… the king asks forgiveness of his l… He is not duplicitous; he has tried to be true to the moment; is there anoth…
A dove lived in a village. When it opened its mouth sweetness came out, sound like a silver light around the cherry bough. But
Small light in the sky appearing suddenly between two pine boughs, their fine needle… now etched onto the radiant surfac… and above this
Orange blossoms blowing over Cast… children begging for coins I met my love under an orange tree or was it an acacia tree or was he not my love?
To say I’m without fear— It wouldn’t be true. I’m afraid of sickness, humiliatio… Like anyone, I have my dreams. But I’ve learned to hide them,