by Donald Hall "Even when I danced erect by the Nile's garden I constructed Necropolis. Ten million fellaheen cells of my body floated stones...
by John Balaban The stream runs clear to its stones； the fish swim in sharp outline. Girl， turn your face for me to draw. Tomorrow， if we should drift...
by Robinson Jeffers The extraordinary patience of things！ This beautiful place defaced with a crop of surburban houses- How beautiful when we first be...
by Marianne Moore For authorities whose hopes are shaped by mercenaries？ Writers entrapped by teatime fame and by commuters' comforts？ Not for the...
by Carol Frost The bee-boy， merops apiater， on sultry thundery days filled his bosom between his coarse shirt and his skin with bees——his ...
by Gerard Manley Hopkins Not， I'll not， carrion comfort， Despair， not feast on thee； Not untwist——slack they may be——these...
by Lucie Brock-Broido All about Carrowmore the lambs Were blotched blue， belonging. They were waiting for carnage or Snuff. This is why they are born ...
by Emily Fragos There is so little to go on： a pale trembling hand as I stand over you， my finger tracing the words on the page， a foreign language yo...
by Ernest Lawrence Thayer The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day： The score stood four to two， with but one inning more to pl...
by Chad Davidson It's the consistency of flesh that drives us， how a pome ascends the stairs of its origin. A boy shakes pears down off the higher...