#AmericanWriters
At the end of my suffering there was a door. Hear me out: that which you call d… I remember. Overhead, noises, branches of the…
In the early evening, a now, as ma… over his writing table. Slowly he lifts his head; a woman appears, carrying roses. Her face floats to the surface of…
In the story of Patroclus no one survives, not even Achilles who was nearly a god. Patroclus resembled him; they wore the same armor.
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…
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
There were others; their bodies were a preparation. I have come to see it as that. As a steam of cries. So much pain in the world - the fo…
In your extended absence, you perm… use of earth, anticipating some return on investment. I must… failure in my assignment, principa… regarding the tomato plants.
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…
No one’s despair is like my despai… You have no place in this garden thinking such things, producing the tiresome outward signs; the ma… pointedly weeding an entire forest…
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
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?
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…
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…
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,
A dove lived in a village. When it opened its mouth sweetness came out, sound like a silver light around the cherry bough. But