Wearing His Colors (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
I saw his head coming through the crowd, the throng of many colors. A brightly colored, garish, basketball as a ...
I saw his head coming through the crowd, the throng of many colors. A brightly colored, garish, basketball as a ...
It was cold this morning, cut into you cold my open suit coat, thin dress white shirt not quite up ...
The heat wrapped me hung heavy on my shoulders, my chest like a wet wool coat thrown on the hot ...
A patina of haze filled my vision hung heavy in the shimmering air high in the nineties they said but ...
I was sitting there in the traffic, waiting for the light the heat and humidity building in the van, one ...
TO charms and philters, secret spells and prayers, How many round attribute all their cares! In these howe'er I never ...
IN life oft ills from self-imprudence spring; As proof, Candaules' story we will bring; In folly's scenes the king was ...
I want to erase your footprints from my walls. Each pillow is thick with your reasons. Omens fill the sidewalk ...
Lancaster bore him--such a little town, Such a great man. It doesn't see him often Of late years, though he ...
I Midwinter spring is its own season Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown, Suspended in time, between pole and tropic. When ...
In the 5th century B.C. an Indian philosopher Gautama teaches "All is emptiness" and "There is no self." In the ...
The birches stand in their beggar's row: Each poor tree Has had its wrists nearly Torn from the clear sleeves ...
Seven tailored suits, matching shoes and socks, a brace of muted ties with subtle breast pocket handkerchiefs descried, you wouldn't ...
It seldom snowed they said, perhaps they're right although seldom was never in that endless summer which tightened a fiery ...
Growing up, I propose, is like wearing a dead man's clothes. Death has a way of levelling the ground. I ...
He finished the painting yesterday noon. Now he studies it in detail. He has painted him in a gray unbuttoned ...
October. Here in this dank, unfamiliar kitchen I study my father's embarrassed young man's face. Sheepish grin, he holds in ...
How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him, Shedding white rings of ...
The murkiness of the local garage is not so dense that you cannot make out the calendar of pinup drawings ...
What scene would I want to be enveloped in more than this one, an ordinary night at the kitchen table, ...
Look at this storm, the idiot, pouring its heart out here, of all places, an industrial suburb on a Sunday, ...
It pricks the arms like poison, knowing that some things, once chosen, are yours and that meanwhile the night comes ...
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I took the ...
WORSEWICK Worsewick Hot Springs was nothing fancy. Somebody put some boards across the creek. That was it. The boards dammed ...
Earliest morning, switching all the tracks that cross the sky from cinder star to star, coupling the ends of streets ...
The city purrs, it hums along, the morning hardly risen. A well-dressed drunk smears her finger across a doorman's lips ...
When I knew, it was raining. Winter in decline. I was tired. You in your soaked shirt diffused into the ...
I have become very hairy all over my body. I'm afraid they'll start hunting me because of my fur. My ...
Nought loves another as itself Nor venerates another so. Nor is it possible to Thought A greater than itself to ...
I was fairly drunk when it began and I took out my bottle and used it along the way. I ...
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