The Dark and the Fair (Stanley Kunitz Poem)
A roaring company that festive night; The beast of dialectic dragged his chains, Prowling from chair to chair is the ...
A roaring company that festive night; The beast of dialectic dragged his chains, Prowling from chair to chair is the ...
Some things I do not profess to understand, perhaps not wanting to, including whatever it was they did with you ...
Since that first morning when I crawled into the world, a naked grubby thing, and found the world unkind, my ...
Light splashed this morning on the shell-pink anemones swaying on their tall stems; down blue-spiked veronica light flowed in rivulets ...
Reading in Li Po how "the peach blossom follows the water" I keep thinking of you because you were so ...
The word I spoke in anger weighs less than a parsley seed, but a road runs through it that leads ...
If the water were clear enough, if the water were still, but the water is not clear, the water is ...
As if I were composed of dust and air, The shape confronting me upon the stair (Athlete of shadow, lighted ...
Before I am completely shriven I shall reject my inch of heaven. Cancel my eyes, and, standing, sink Into my ...
All summer I heard them rustling in the shrubbery, outracing me from tier to tier in my garden, a whisper ...
My name is Solomon Levi, the desert is my home, my mother's breast was thorny, and father I had none. ...
Nobody in the widow's household ever celebrated anniversaries. In the secrecy of my room I would not admit I cared ...
Miss Murphy in first grade wrote its name in chalk across the board and told us it was roaring down ...
I touch you in the night, whose gift was you, My careless sprawler, And I touch you cold, unstirring, star-bemused, ...
1 On my way home from school up tribal Providence Hill past the Academy ballpark where I could never hope ...
I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some ...
At his incipient sun The ice of twenty winters broke, Crackling, in her eyes. Her mirroring, still mind, That held ...
My mother never forgave my father for killing himself, especially at such an awkward time and in a public park, ...
An agitation of the air, A perturbation of the light Admonished me the unloved year Would turn on its hinge ...
When his boat snapped loose from its mooring, under the screaking of the gulls, he tried at first to wave ...
Now in the suburbs and the falling light I followed him, and now down sandy road Whitter than bone-dust, through ...
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