by Hans Faverey Translated by Francis R. Jones Beating his lead with the blunt end of his axe， flattening it in order to forget that he is a child of ...
by Amy Clampitt While you walk the water's edge， turning over concepts I can't envision， the honking buoy serves notice that at any time the w...
by Paul Mariani In the Tuileries we came upon the Great Wheel rising gargantuan above the trees. Evening was coming on. An after-dinner stroll， descen...
by Jack Prelutsky Be glad your nose is on your face， not pasted on some other place， for if it were where it is not， you might dislike your nose a lot...
by Charles Baudelaire Translated by Louis Simpson You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it——it's the only way. So as...
by Roger Fanning Baudelaire， dead broke， nonetheless allowed himself two hours for his morning ablutions. （Warm water can be a narcotic too.） His razo...
by Denise Levertov Since I stroll in the woods more often than on this frequented path， it's usually trees I observe； but among fellow humans what...
by Ellen Bass Bring me your pain， love. Spread it out like fine rugs， silk sashes， warm eggs， cinnamon and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me the detail，...
by Frances Chung she heard tales about saving grapefruit skins for cooking she grew bright under the neon dragon of Chinatown she made saffron curry r...
by Marianne Moore （Suggested by post-game broadcasts） Fanaticism？ No. Writing is exciting and baseball is like writing. You can never tell with either...