by David Petruzelli When I was eight months old， Jackson Pollock stuck his hand in my crib and let me squeeze one of his fingers. He was in my parents...
by Muriel Spark Last thing at night and only one Man in the street， And even he was gone complete Into an absence as he stood Beside the lamplight lon...
by Jill Bialosky After father died the love was all through the house untamed and sometimes violent. When the dates came we went up to our rooms and m...
by Rachel Galvin I trail my suitcase along the platform， the weight of the air‘s mechanism at the small of my back. In the old country a man wou...
by Ciaran Carson I fear the vast dimensions of eternity. I fear the gap between the platform and the train. I fear the onset of a murderous campaign. ...
by Michael Pettit Just past dusk I passed Christiansburg， cluster of lights sharpening as the violet backdrop of the Blue Ridge darkened. Not stars bu...
by Felipe Benitez Reyes By Gonzalo De Lerma The sensation of being the only guest in a grand hotel on the outskirts of the city —and hearing the...
by Hsieh Ling-yun （Translated by Sam Hamill） Beside this dike， I shake off the world's dust， enjoying walks alone near my brushwood house. A small...
by Norman Dubie The birches stand in their beggar's row： Each poor tree Has had its wrists nearly Torn from the clear sleeves of bone， These icy t...
by Jane Kenyon Now wind torments the field， turning the white surface back on itself， back and back on itself， like an animal licking a wound. Nothing...