by Denise Levertov We live our lives of human passions， cruelties， dreams， concepts， crimes and the exercise of virtue in and beside a world devoid of...
by Robert Browning Gr-r-r——there go， my heart's abhorrence！ Water your damned flower-pots， do！ If hate killed men， Brother Lawrence， G...
by Tina Cane Anna Akhmatova burned her poems and the light of Madrid was like water at La Latina luncheonette I ate a cup of chocolate and a motor oil...
by Judith Viorst My mom says I'm her sugarplum. My mom says I'm her lamb. My mom says I'm completely perfect Just the way I am. My mom say...
by Dennis O'Driscoll someone is dressing up for death today， a change of skirt or tie eating a final feast of buttered sliced pan， tea scarcely ha...
by Steve Scafidi It would have to shine. And burn. And be a sign of something infinite and turn things and people nearby into their wilder selves and ...
by Garrett Hongo No one knew the secret of my flutes， and I laugh now because some said I was enlightened. But the truth is I'm only a gardener wh...
by Jean-Michel Maulpoix He remains there for a long time， starting at the blue， motionless and stiff， as if in a church， knowing nothing about what we...
by Walt Whitman Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn'd love， But now I think there is no unreturn'd lo...
by Matthew Shenoda It is here on this ridge exposed to the orange dusk of mountain autumn that the story begins. Buck wood for the stove feel the heat...