The Summer I Was Sixteen (Geraldine Connolly Poem)
The turquoise pool rose up to meet us, its slide a silver afterthought down which we plunged, screaming, into a ...
The turquoise pool rose up to meet us, its slide a silver afterthought down which we plunged, screaming, into a ...
In memory of Father Flye, 1884-1985 The strange and wonderful are too much with us. The protea of the antipodes-a ...
Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning. Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder. These the happiest ...
How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him, Shedding white rings of ...
(After Lorca) Now in Vienna there are ten pretty women. There's a shoulder where death comes to cry. There's a ...
My wife and I lived all alone, contention was our only bone. I fought with her, she fought with me, ...
All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are ...
All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are ...
You know the brick path in the back of the house, the one you see from the kitchen window, the ...
This is not bad -- ambling along 44th Street with Sonny Rollins for company, his music flowing through the soft ...
I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna or on any river for that matter to be perfectly honest. Not ...
When all of a sudden the city air filled with snow, the distinguishable flakes blowing sideways, looked like krill fleeing ...
Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult. You always wore brown, the color craze of the ...
The whole idea of it makes me feel like I'm coming down with something, something worse than any stomach ache ...
All afternoon I have been struggling to communicate in Italian with Roberto and Giuseppe, who have begun to resemble the ...
You are so beautiful and I am a fool to be in love with you is a theme that keeps ...
A place of dryad and hamadryad, there are eyes here by the million. Many divert to watch me. Threatened, they ...
My whole world is all you refuse: a black light, angelic and cold on the path to the orchard, fox-runs ...
The angel of self-discipline, her guardian Since she first knew and had to go away From home that spring to ...
I remember, it was a morning, in summer, The window was half-open, I drew near, I could see my father ...
Phone for the fish knives, Norman As cook is a little unnerved; You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes And I ...
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
Gray rainwater lay on the grass in the late afternoon. The carp lay on the bottom, resting, while dusk took ...
On a sunny brae, alone I lay One summer afternoon; It was the marriage-time of May With her young lover, ...
Young Mary, loitering once her garden way, Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day, As wine that blushes ...
Nothing was remembered, nothing forgotten. When we awoke, wagons were passing on the warm summer pavements, The window-sills were wet ...
a novel by Richard Brautigan THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA The cover for Trout Fishing in America is ...
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I took the ...
THE HUNCHBACK TROUT The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew too close together. The creek was ...
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the lake promised us ...
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