by Sarah Getty sits with a small smile， watching two speckled frogs or lizards run right and left， apart， together on long legs bendable as rubber. He...
by Muriel Rukeyser When I wrote of the women in their dances and wildness， it was a mask， on their mountain， gold-hunting， singing， in orgy， it was a ...
by John Brehm I'm so wildly unprolific， the poems I have not written would reach from here to the California coast if you laid them end to end. An...
by John Heath-Stubbs Back in the dear old thirties' days When politics was passion A harmless left-wing bard was I And so I grew in fashion： Altho...
by E. E. Cummings in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee and eddieandbill come running from m...
by Eavan Boland The only legend I have ever loved is the story of a daughter lost in hell. And found and rescued there. Love and blackmail are the gis...
by Stanley Kunitz My mother never forgave my father for killing himself， especially at such an awkward time and in a public park， that spring when I w...
by Joseph Stroud Three days into the journey I lost the Inca Trail and scrambled around the Andes in a growing panic when on a hillside below snowline...
by Coner O'Callaghan answers questions vaguely， as if from distance， cares less for the dribs and drabs of his libido； gets more droll， lachrymose...
by E. E. Cummings in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee and eddieandbill come by Hart Crane ...