Autobiographical (Erica Jong Poem)
The lover in these poems is me; the doctor, Love. He appears as husband, lover analyst & muse, as father, ...
The lover in these poems is me; the doctor, Love. He appears as husband, lover analyst & muse, as father, ...
They mouth love's language. Gnash The thirteen teeth Your lean jaws grin with. Lash Your itch and quailing, nude greed ...
The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer, A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage, A whiplash swimmer, a fish ...
For me, the naked and the nude (By lexicographers construed As synonyms that should express The same deficiency of dress ...
When I die I don't care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East ...
Lingo of birds was easier than lingo of peasants- they were elusive, though, the birds, for excellent reasons. He thought ...
A blackbird lands A good beer-barrel A man sits in a cave knitting A theatre in Copenhagen Abask the sea-wall ...
You were never told, Mother, how old Illyawas drunk That last holiday, for five days and nights He stumbled through ...
The sky in the trees, the trees mixed up with what's left of heaven, nearby a patch of daffodils rooted ...
She was thinner, with a mannered gauntness as she paused just inside the double glass doors to survey the room, ...
Nero was not worried when he heard the prophecy of the Delphic Oracle. "Let him fear the seventy three years." ...
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I took the ...
I've been home a long time among the vast porticos, Which the mariner sun has tinged with a million fires, ...
The yard half a yard, half a lake blue as a corpse. The lake will tell things you long to ...
Per me si va ne la citt? dolente, per me si va ne l'etterno dolore, per me si va tra ...
Two, of course there are two. It seems perfectly natural now-- The one who never looks up, whose eyes are ...
You bring me good news from the clinic, Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white Mummy-cloths, smiling: I'm ...
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers---- The rector, the midwife, the sexton, ...
The photographic chamber of the eye records bare painted walls, while an electric light lays the chromium nerves of plumbing ...
The old war is over the new one has begun between drivers and pedestrians on a Friday in New York ...
Your scent is in the room. Swiftly it overwhelms and conquers me! Jasmines, night jasmines, perfect of perfume, Heavy with ...
Look at them standing there in authority The pale-faces, As if it could have any effect any more. Pale-face authority, ...
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