Poem (Louise Gluck Poem)
In the early evening, a now, as man is bending over his writing table. Slowly he lifts his head; a ...
In the early evening, a now, as man is bending over his writing table. Slowly he lifts his head; a ...
There was an apple tree in the yard -- this would have been forty years ago -- behind, only meadows. ...
Remember the days of our first happiness, how strong we were, how dazed by passion, lying all day, then all ...
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