Climbing You (Erica Jong Poem)
I want to understand the steep thing that climbs ladders in your throat. I can't make sense of you. Everywhere ...
I want to understand the steep thing that climbs ladders in your throat. I can't make sense of you. Everywhere ...
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour; and behold my head. -- George Herbert Long ...
In Memory of Dennis Turner, 1946-1984 A hook shot kisses the rim and hangs there, helplessly, but doesn't drop, and ...
In Memory of Dennis Turner, 1946-1984 A hook shot kisses the rim and hangs there, helplessly, but doesn't drop, and ...
To be put on the train and kissed and given my ticket, Then the station slid backward, the shops and ...
The struggle for freedom cloaked in his repression the protesters taken away abducted in the night The people fearful hearing ...
We laughed easily playing in the pool going round and round making the whirlpool Somehow we came to a discussion ...
Hearing his call, speaking directly to me the love in his warm eyes they mean the world to me Walking ...
Even as the snow melted, the front of the house, the sidewalk, the driveway, yielding to the warming the heat ...
One of his nails in my palm, square-cut, smooth metal warming to my touch, held fast Listening to the scriptures ...
Laughter, bright holy laughter preceded the blur of blue, running down the church's hallway hands held high, blue past the ...
Dawn on the lake The world is still. Water like a mirror. Land and water blur. Bold bright colors in ...
No Time To think, to plan, to dream, to be ready Reading slower as time goes on Words blur in ...
Are we done Oh, yeah Words, lectures Blur, babble Stumble out of bed Clothes, clean or dirty Unshaven, unkempt Skim ...
White knuckles on the wheel holding fast to my lane between the wiper strokes and blur of reckless drivers on ...
for tess Tonight there's a crowd in my head: all the things you are not yet. You are words without ...
is what we called her. The story was that her father had thrown Drano at her which was probably true, ...
Long Pont's apparitional this warm spring morning, the strand a blur of sandy light, and the square white of the ...
I LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds, Saying, "I will make you keeper of my ...
One Life of so much Consequence! Yet I -- for it -- would pay -- My Soul's entire income -- ...
'Twas just this time, last year, I died. I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the ...
The hunt begins at a languid pace belying hysteria building in place, biding its time to menace the peace in ...
I wonder how it all got started, this business about seeing your life flash before your eyes while you drown, ...
Through waning afternoons we glide the watery peripheries of love. A silence, a quietude falls. Above us--the sagging pavilions of ...
A week before the Armistice, you died. They did not keep your heart like Livingstone's, then plant your bones near ...
"When I hit her on the head, it was good, and then I did it to her a couple of ...
I had come to the house, in a cave of trees, Facing a sheer sky. Everything moved, -- a bell ...
There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart só heavy, if he had a hundred years & more, & ...
Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset, There must be one (which, I am not sure) That ...
At four o'clock in the gun-metal blue dark we hear the first crow of the first cock just below the ...
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