by Rachel Zucker Spring is not so very promising as it is the thing that looking back was fire， promising： ignition， aspiration； it was not under my t...
by Deborah Bernhardt The opposite of striking him. It is gawky to say. Speech， a loose tooth. That I'm in love I can't. Wasps and wisps of wor...
by Randall Jarrell What a girl called "the dailiness of life" （Adding an errand to your errand. Saying， "Since you're up . . ."...
by Kathryn Stripling Byer This， he said， giving the hickory leaf to me. Because I am poor. And he lifted my hand to his lips， kissed the fingers that ...
by Robin Robertson The slow-grained slide to embed the blade of the key is a sheathing， a gliding on graphite， pushing inside to find the ribs of the ...
by Jean Gallagher （Giovanni di Paolo， ca. 1440） Particularity evidently survives in paradise. Your own uniform， the modesty of it， still fits. Your br...
by Sarah Gridley Besides the toss and drag of shells are you shown no proof as to time lost here？ Same stamp on every morning. Tattered glass at rub o...
by Mark Jarman The wave breaks And I'm carried into it. This is hell， I know， Yet my father laughs， Chest-deep， proving I'm wrong. We're s...
by Mónica de la Torre Sonya's so good that all the guys pick on her， so the evening's narrative goes. I've heard she wears yellow t...
by Paul Laurence Dunbar We wear the mask that grins and lies， It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes，—— This debt we pay to human guile； ...