Unacknowledg (Genevieve Taggard Poems)
These were his songs. Now he has broken them. All he has made, that has he also slain:Seeing my beauty ...
These were his songs. Now he has broken them. All he has made, that has he also slain:Seeing my beauty ...
Burning, he walks in the stream of flickering letters, clarinets, machines throbbing quicker than the heart, lopped-off heads, silk canvases, ...
This is no case of petty right or wrongThat politicians or philosophersCan judge. I hate not Germans, nor grow hotWith ...
But to be still! oh, but to cease awhile The panting breath and hurrying steps of life, The ...
Midstream they met. Challenger and champion,They fought a war for honourFierce, sharp, but with no honour:Each had a simple aim ...
I am the Son of King Gog of Magog(1) I'm banging doors and walls to no avail - yet I ...
Morning paper? Here you are!Morning papers everywhere-Bed or breakfast-tram or car.'Nothing in it.' But it's there.Banging bombs and sweating men-Nights ...
First Movement Thin-voiced, nasal pipes Drawing sound out and out Until it is a screeching thread, Sharp and cutting, sharp ...
The wind blew all my wedding-day, And my wedding-night was the night of the high wind; And a stable door ...
(a) radical ban all fires and places where people congregate to create comfort put an end to sleep good cooking ...
I hardly remember your voice, but the pain of you floats in some remote current of my blood. I carry ...
I hardly remember your voice, but the pain of you floats in some remote current of my blood. I carry ...
I'll tell of the Battle of Hastings, As happened in days long gone by, When Duke William became King of ...
THE HUNCHBACK TROUT The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew too close together. The creek was ...
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever but it just doesn't rain like it used to. I particularly remember the ...
ARMOUR AVENUE was the name of this street and door signs on empty houses read "The Silver Dollar," "Swede Annie" ...
1 You, once a belle in Shreveport, with henna-colored hair, skin like a peachbud, still have your dresses copied from ...
Oh, I should like to ride the seas, A roaring buccaneer; A cutlass banging at my knees, A dirk behind ...
What! you don't like him; well, maybe -- we all have our fancies, of course: Brumby to look at, you ...
Burning, he walks in the stream of flickering letters, clarinets, machines throbbing quicker than the heart, lopped-off heads, silk canvases, ...
The last of day gathers in the yellow parlor and drifts like fine dust across the face of the gilt-framed ...
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