by Jean Toomer Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones In their hip-pockets as a thing that...
by Lucie Brock-Broido Soon the electrical wires will grow heavy under the snow. I am thinking of fire of the possibility of fire & then moving Acr...
by Cynthia Zarin To Mary Jo Salter Beyond the ice-bound stones and bucking trees， past bewildered Mary， the Meer in snow， two skating rinks and two bl...
by W. D. Snodgrass These lawn chairs and the chaise lounge of bulky redwood were purchased for my father twenty years ago， then plumped down in the ya...
by Larry Levis 1. Looking into the eyes of Gerard de Nerval You notice the giant sea crabs rising. Which is what happens When you look into the eyes o...
by Mary Karr I opened up my shirt to show this man the flaming heart he lit in me， and I was scooped up like a lamb and carried to the dim warm. I who...
by Tony Hoagland At this height， Kansas is just a concept， a checkerboard design of wheat and corn no larger than the foldout section of my neighbor&#...
by Ben Doyle Lick the lights. Everyone says that here. Sometimes they'll call a spade a shovel， hollowing half a hole， which is all I have to slee...
by Judith Viorst The tires on my bike are flat. The sky is grouchy gray. At least it sure feels like that Since Hanna moved away. Chocolate ice cream ...
by Juliet S. Kono At cold daybreak we wind up the mountainside to Haleakala Crater. Our hands knot under the rough of your old army blanket. We pass p...