Gradual Clearing (Amy Clampitt Poems)
Late in the day the fogwrung itself out like a spongein glades of rain,sieving the half-invisiblecove with speartips;then, in a ...
Late in the day the fogwrung itself out like a spongein glades of rain,sieving the half-invisiblecove with speartips;then, in a ...
THE sudden sunbeams slant between the treesLike solid bars of silver. moonlight kissed,And strike the supine shadows where they restStretched ...
T?cherWinkenFlatternKnattern.Winde klatschen.Dein Lachen weht.Greifen FassenBalgen ZwingenKussUmfangenSinkenNichts.ATTACKScarvesWaveFlutterChatterWinds clatter.Your laughter blowsGrasp holdScuffle forceKissSurroundedSink downNothingness(August Stramm)
And sometimes I am sorry when the grass Is growing over the stones in quiet hollows And the cocksfoot leans ...
We sat in the belly of the aeroplane and held out for sirens to swerve across the grass; men with ...
There is always something to be made of pain. Your mother knits. She turns out scarves in every shade of ...
The seasons turning the signs changing the buds coming on the bushes, the trees the shoots pushing up through the ...
Snow continues to fall young faces pressed against the windows climb the back of the couch dream of snowmen, castles, ...
O rose beyond the reach of time and of the senses O kiss enveloped in the scarves of all the ...
Over the terminal, the arms and chest of the god brightened by snow. Formerly mercury, formerly silver, surface yellowed by ...
I. My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the ...
The women are all wearing imitation silk scarves, Blackpool or Biarritz, sipping Woman, masticating The morning's post, new babies and ...
Twitched strings, the clang of metal, beaten drums, Dull, shrill, continuous, disquieting: And now the stealthy dancer comes Undulantly with ...
I Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sounds On my spirit make a music, ...
WHAT do we see here in the sand dunes of the white moon alone with our thoughts, Bill, Alone with ...
THEY have taken the ball of earth and made it a little thing. They were held to the land and ...
Suddenly the window will open and Mother will call it's time to come in the wall will part I will ...
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus ...
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers---- The rector, the midwife, the sexton, ...
For Linda Foster I Because we used to have leaves and on damp days our muscles feel a tug, painful ...
The sky is crumbling into millions of paper dots the wind blows in my face so I duck into my ...
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