#AmericanWriters
You want to know how I spend my t… I walk the front lawn, pretending to be weeding. You ought to know I’m never weeding, on my knees, pu… clumps of clover from the flower b…
I have a friend who still believes… Not a stupid person, yet with all… She thinks someone listens in heav… On earth she’s unusually competent… Brave too, able to face unpleasant…
Speak to me, aching heart: what Ridiculous errand are you inventin… Weeping in the dark garage With your sack of garbage: it is n… To take out the garbage, it is you…
In your extended absence, you perm… use of earth, anticipating some return on investment. I must… failure in my assignment, principa… regarding the tomato plants.
I never turned anyone into a pig. Some people are pigs; I make them Look like pigs. I’m sick of your world That lets the outside disguise the…
In the empty field, in the morning… the body waits to be claimed. The spirit sits beside it, on a sm… nothing comes to give it form agai… Think of the body’s loneliness.
Now, in twilight, on the palace st… the king asks forgiveness of his l… He is not duplicitous; he has tried to be true to the moment; is there anoth…
The great man turns his back on th… Now he will not die in paradise nor hear again the lutes of paradise among the ol… by the clear pools under the cypre…
A man and a woman lie on a white b… It is morning. I think Soon they will waken. On the bedside table is a vase of lilies; sunlight
My mother’s an expert in one thing… sending people she loves into the… The little ones, the babies—these she rocks, whispering or singing q… what she did for my father;
There was an apple tree in the yar… this would have been forty years ago—behind, only meadows. Drifts of crocus in the damp grass.
When I made you, I loved you. Now I pity you. I gave you all you needed: bed of earth, blanket of blue air— As I get further away from you
How can you say earth should give me joy? Each th… born is my burden; I cannot succee… with all of you. And you would like to dictate to m…
A child draws the outline of a bod… She draws what she can, but it is… she cannot fill in what she knows… Within the unsupported line, she k… that life is missing; she has cut
At the end of my suffering there was a door. Hear me out: that which you call d… I remember. Overhead, noises, branches of the…