#AmericanWriters
There is always something to be ma… Your mother knits. She turns out scarves in every sha… They were for Christmas, and they… while she married over and over, t…
As I perceive I am dying now and know I will not speak again, will not survive the earth, be summoned out of it again, not
Small light in the sky appearing suddenly between two pine boughs, their fine needle… now etched onto the radiant surfac… and above this
You want to know how I spend my t… I walk the front lawn, pretending to be weeding. You ought to know I’m never weeding, on my knees, pu… clumps of clover from the flower b…
I’ll tell you something: every day people are dying. And that’s just… Every day, in funeral homes, new w… new orphans. They sit with their h… trying to decide about this new li…
Is it winter again, is it cold aga… didn’t Frank just slip on the ice, didn’t he heal, weren’t the spring… didn’t the night end, didn’t the melting ice
Late December: my father and I are going to New York, to the cir… He holds me on his shoulders in the bitter win… scraps of white paper
How can you say earth should give me joy? Each th… born is my burden; I cannot succee… with all of you. And you would like to dictate to m…
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…
Remember the days of our first hap… how strong we were, how dazed by p… lying all day, then all night in t… sleeping there, eating there too:… it seemed everything had ripened
In the empty field, in the morning… the body waits to be claimed. The spirit sits beside it, on a sm… nothing comes to give it form agai… Think of the body’s loneliness.
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…
In the end, I made myself Known to your wife as A god would, in her own house, in Ithaca, a voice Without a body: she
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?
A man and a woman lie on a white b… It is morning. I think Soon they will waken. On the bedside table is a vase of lilies; sunlight