by Sandra Alcosser Winter again and we want the same nocturnal rocking， watching cedar spit and sketch its leafy flames， our rooms steamy with garlic ...
by Anne Pierson Wiese St. Nicholas Park in Harlem is one of few spots on the island of Manhattan where you can stand on terraces of rock untouched sin...
by Wallace Stevens Twenty men crossing a bridge， Into a village， Are twenty men crossing twenty bridges， Into twenty villages， Or one man Crossing a s...
by Ovid THUS Achelous ends： his audience hear With admiration， and admiring， fear The pow'rs of heav'n； except Ixion's son， Who laugh'...
by Kim Addonizio Damp-haired from the bath， you drape yourself upside down across the sofa， reading， one hand idly sunk into a bowl of crackers， goldf...
by Robert Frost Something there is that doesn't love a wall， That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it， And spills the upper boulders in the sun...
by Durs Grünbein （Translated by Michael Hofmann） Everything continues much as before， especially the war， But also the daily dressing and undress...
by Frieda Hughes She is the gypsy Whose young have rooted In the very flesh of her scalp. Her eyes are drill-holes where Your senses spin， and you are...
by Charles Reznikoff I New Year's The solid houses in the mist are thin as tissue paper； the water laps slowly at the rocks； and the ducks from th...
by John Ashbery What the bad news was became apparent too late for us to do anything good about it. I was offered no urgent dreaming， didn't need ...