by Gail Mazur Sometimes she's Confucian—— resolute in privation. . . . Each day， more immobile， hip not mending， legs swollen； still s...
by Eugene Field Wynken， Blynken， and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe，—— Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew. &q...
by Robert Penn Warren From plane of light to plane， wings dipping through Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds， Out of the peak's black a...
by Amy Clampitt Tufts， follicles， grubstake biennial rosettes， a low- life beach-blond scruff of couch grass： notwithstanding the interglinting dregs ...
by Sydney Lea When was the last lobotomy， I wonder？ Too late for Carl at least， whom it's all but hopeless to think of as a whipsaw of hateful pas...
by Rita Dove I love the hour before takeoff， that stretch of no time， no home but the gray vinyl seats linked like unfolding paper dolls. Soon we shal...
by Graham Duncan Every tree is an ancestor tree， not just grandfather redwoods. Every sapling， every sprout， carries that majesty， the dissolution of ...
by Kathryn Stripling Byer Without hands a woman would stand at her mirror looking back only， not touching， for how could she？ Eyelid. Cheek. Earlobe. ...
by Sarah Fox —for Brian Engel-Fuentes Father glues the hippo back together， as he‘s done before when the others broke. It‘s no small...
by Margaret Atwood I would like to watch you sleeping， which may not happen. I would like to watch you， sleeping. I would like to sleep with you， to e...