Letter To N.Y. (Elizabeth Bishop Poem)
For Louise Crane In your next letter I wish you'd say where you are going and what you are doing; ...
For Louise Crane In your next letter I wish you'd say where you are going and what you are doing; ...
The still explosions on the rocks, the lichens, grow by spreading, gray, concentric shocks. They have arranged to meet the ...
In Worcester, Massachusetts, I went with Aunt Consuelo to keep her dentist's appointment and sat and waited for her in ...
Do you believe, in what you see do you believe in reality do you believe in the sun that's bright ...
Inheritance. I wasn't raised to call myself Black, Indian, Chinese-- "You're human," said my parents. That was all. By the ...
Sometimes I stroll through forests just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock into the bushes to distract ...
This is going to cost you. If you really want to hear a country fiddle, you have to listen hard, ...
Many setups. At least as many falls. Winter is paralyzing the country, but not here. Here, the boys are impersonating ...
The city purrs, it hums along, the morning hardly risen. A well-dressed drunk smears her finger across a doorman's lips ...
No, I shall not say why it is that I love you- Why do you ask me, save for vanity? ...
The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office, And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly Towards the dazzling ...
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window- Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds, And tiny violets, ...
From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon ...
Of what she said to me that night-no matter. The strange thing came next day. My brain was full of ...
You know how it is waking from a dream certain you can fly and that someone, long gone, returned and ...
They tell me that your heart has been found in Iowa, pumping along Interstate 35. Do you want it back? ...
Little Cowboy, what have you heard, Up on the lonely rath's green mound? Only the plaintive yellow bird Sighing in ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth And feel her strength through all your veins; Breathe her full odors, ...
Long ago in a poultry yard One dull November morn, Beneath a motherly soft wing A little goose was born. ...
Oh! a bare, brown rock Stood up in the sea, The waves at its feet Dancing merrily. A little bubble ...
Lo giorno se n'andava, e l'aere bruno toglieva li animai che sono in terra da le fatiche loro; e io ...
This little bag I hope will prove To be not vainly made-- For, if you should a needle want It ...
When Winchester races first took their beginning It is said the good people forgot their old Saint Not applying at ...
My dearest Frank, I wish you joy Of Mary's safety with a Boy, Whose birth has given little pain Compared ...
Oh! Mr. Best, you're very bad And all the world shall know it; Your base behaviour shall be sung By ...
You'll rejoice at how many kinds of shit there are: gosling shit (which J. Williams said something was as green ...
Something strange is creeping across me. La Celestina has only to warble the first few bars Of "I Thought about ...
Here is my gift, not roses on your grave, not sticks of burning incense. You lived aloof, maintaining to the ...
There will be thunder then. Remember me. Say ' She asked for storms.' The entire world will turn the colour ...
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