California Plush (Frank Bidart Poem)
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry And blackening east that so embitters March, Well-housed must watch ...
1 They that in play can do the thing they would, Having an instinct throned in reason's place, --And every ...
AMONGST THE HIGHLY PLACED It is considered low to talk about food. The fact is: they have Already eaten. The ...
The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by, As if they loved to breast the breeze ...
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and ...
ANOTHER METHOD OF MAKING WALNUT CATSUP And this is a very small cookbook for Trout Fishing in America as if ...
The world is full of double beds And most delightful maidenheads, Which being so, there's no excuse For sodomy of ...
THE CATRINE woods were yellow seen, The flowers decay'd on Catrine lee, Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green, But nature ...
Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)- a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me ...
At four o'clock in the gun-metal blue dark we hear the first crow of the first cock just below the ...
Earliest morning, switching all the tracks that cross the sky from cinder star to star, coupling the ends of streets ...
Midnight; bells toll, and along the cloud-high towers The golden lights go out . . . The yellow windows darken, ...
I The bitterness. the misery, the wretchedness of childhood Put me out of love with God. I can't believe in ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
THE WIND blew hollow frae the hills, By fits the sun's departing beam Look'd on the fading yellow woods, That ...
WHEN biting Boreas, fell and dour, Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, Far south ...
BY yon Castle wa', at the close of the day, I heard a man sing, tho' his head it was ...
I mind me in the days departed, How often underneath the sun With childish bounds I used to run To ...
Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers Plucked in the garden, all the summer through And winter, and it seemed ...
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break ...
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