#AmericanWriters
My mother’s playing cards with my… Spite and Malice, the family past… my grandmother taught all her daug… Midsummer: too hot to go out. Today, my aunt’s ahead; she’s gett…
I have a friend who still believes… Not a stupid person, yet with all… She thinks someone listens in heav… On earth she’s unusually competent… Brave too, able to face unpleasant…
Long ago, I was wounded. I lived to revenge myself against my father, not for what he was— for what I was: from the beginning…
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
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
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…
There was an apple tree in the yar… this would have been forty years ago—behind, only meadows. Drifts of crocus in the damp grass.
The great man turns his back on th… Now he will not die in paradise nor hear again the lutes of paradise among the ol… by the clear pools under the cypre…
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…
Night covers the pond with its win… Under the ringed moon I can make… your face swimming among minnows a… echoing stars. In the night air the surface of the pond is metal.
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…
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.
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…
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…