#AmericanWriters
Extraordinary efforts are being ma… To hide things from us, my friend. Some stay up into the wee hours To search their souls. Others undress each other in darke…
A world’s disappearing. Little street, You were too narrow, Too much in the shade already. You had only one dog,
On the road with billowing poplars… In a country flat and desolate To the far-off gray horizon, where… A man and a woman went on foot, Each carrying a small suitcase.
In my great grandmother’s time, All one needed was a broom To get to see places And give the geese a chase in the… •
To find clues where there are none… That’s my job now, I said to the Dictionary on my desk. The world… My window has grown illegible, And so has the clock on the wall.
Not a peep out of you now After the bedlam early this mornin… Are you begging pardon of me Hidden up there among the leaves, Or are your brains momentarily ove…
This last continent Still to be discovered. My hand is dreaming, is building Its ship. For crew it takes A pack of bones, for food
St. John of the Cross wore dark g… As he passed me on the street. St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful a… Turned her back on me. “Soulmate,” they hissed. “It’s hi…
Of the light in my room: Its mood swings, Dark-morning glooms, Summer ecstasies. Spider on the wall,
Where it says snow read teeth-marks of a virgin Where it says knife read you passed through my bones like a police-whistle
As an ant is powerless Against a raised boot, And only has an instant To have a bright idea or two. The black boot so polished,
Your mother carried you Out of the smoking ruins of a buil… And set you down on this sidewalk Like a doll bundled in burnt rags, Where you now stood years later
The one who had been whispering All along in this empty theater And whose voice I just heard— Or imagined I did Distracted as I was by my own tho…
Seems like a long time Since the waiter took my order. Grimy little luncheonette, The snow falling outside. Seems like it has grown darker
How much death works, No one knows what a long Day he puts in. The little Wife always alone Ironing death’s laundry.