#AmericanWriters
When my brother came home from war he carried his left arm in a black… but assured us most of it was stil… Spring was late, the trees forgot… I stood in a long line waiting for…
On March 1, 1958, four deserters… August Rein, Henri Bruette, Jac… government pay station at Orleansv… confession of Dauville the other t… was given his freedom and returned…
Remember how unimportant they seemed, growing loosely in the open fields we crossed on the way to school. We would carve wooden swords
“Hill of Jews,” says one, named for a cemetery long gone."Hill of Jove," says another, and maybe Jove stalked here
Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas p… the yellowing ash, all the trees are gone, and I was older than all of them. I am older than the m… than the stars that fill my plate,
Here in February, the fine dark branches of the almond begin to sprout tiny clusters of leaves, sticky to the touch. Not far off, about the length
This poem has a door, a locked doo… and curtains drawn against the day… but at night the lights come on, o… in each room, and the neighbors sw… they hear music and the sound of d…
Hearing of the death of Larry Levis this past May, Jane Cooper, one of my oldest (and surely my dearest) friends in poetry, wrote me a consoling letter, one that...
Rain filled the streets once a year, rising almost to door and window sills, battering walls and roofs until it cleaned away the mess
It has been raining now since long before dawn, and the windows of the Arab coffee house of Delra… are steamed over and no one looks in or out. If I were on my way
The first purple wisteria I recall from boyhood hung on a wire outside the windows of the breakfast room next door at the home of Steve Pisaris.
He fears the tiger standing in his… The tiger takes its time, it smile… Like moons, the two blank eyes tug… “God help me now,” is all that he… “God help me now, how close I’ve…
3-foot blue cannisters of nitro along a conveyor belt, slow fish speaking the language of silence. On the roof, I in my respirator patching the asbestos gas lines
My brother comes home from work and climbs the stairs to our room. I can hear the bed groan and his s… one by one. You can have it, he sa… The moonlight streams in the windo…
If you were twenty-seven and had done time for beating our ex-wife and had no dreams you remembered in the morning, you might