by Thomas Hardy When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay， And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings， Delicate-...
by Lucie Brock-Broido After vespers， after the first snow has fallen to its squalls， after New Wave， after the anorexics have curled into their geomet...
by Tom Andrews To disappear into the right words and to be their meanings. . . October dusk. Pink scraps of clouds， a plum-colored sky. The sycamore t...
by Charles Wright East of me， west of me， full summer. How deeper than elsewhere the dusk is in your own yard. Birds fly back and forth across the law...
by Minnie Bruce Pratt It's at dinnertime the stories come， abruptly， as they sit down to food predictable as ritual. Pink lady peas， tomatoes red ...
by Stephen Burt Cover me quietly， stone. I wrote verse. I meant little in life， blamed few and injured none； I tried to get along. My writings kept me...
by Hart Crane Often beneath the wave， wide from this ledge The dice of drowned men's bones he saw bequeath An embassy. Their numbers as he watched...
by Tomas Transtromer （Translated by Robert Bly） Once there was a shock that left behind a long， shimmering comet tail. It keeps us inside. It makes th...
by Terrance HayesThey are like those crazy womenwho tore Orpheuswhen he refused to sing，these men grindingin the strobe & black lightsof Pegasus. ...
by Donald Hall To grow old is to lose everything. Aging， everybody knows it. Even when we are young， we glimpse it sometimes， and nod our heads when a...