Looking, Walking, Being (Denise Levertov Poem)
"The World is not something to look at, it is something to be in." Mark Rudman I look and look. ...
"The World is not something to look at, it is something to be in." Mark Rudman I look and look. ...
You shall hear how Hiawatha Prayed and fasted in the forest, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater ...
"As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys him, ...
X. Hiawatha's Wooing "As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman, Though she bends him, ...
Since that first morning when I crawled into the world, a naked grubby thing, and found the world unkind, my ...
1915 Whence comest thou, Gehazi, So reverend to behold, In scarlet and in ermines And chain of England's gold?" "From ...
I was born in 1902 I never once went back to my birthplace I don't like to turn back at ...
On an ebony bed decorated with coral eagles, sound asleep lies Nero -- unconscious, quiet, and blissful; thriving in the ...
It is possible to be struck by a meteor or a single-engine plane while reading in a chair at home. ...
Here among long-discarded cassocks, Damp stools, and half-split open hassocks, Here where the vicar never looks I nibble through old ...
Would that the structure brave, the manifold music I build, Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work, ...
To Dawson Town came Percy Brown from London on the Thames. A pane of glass was in his eye, and ...
Paw marks near one burrow show Graydigger at home, I bend low, from down there swivel my head, grasstop level--the ...
Take it away, and swallow it yourself. Ha! Look you, there's a rat. Last night there were a dozen on ...
The strongest creature for his size But least equipped for combat That dwells beneath Australian skies Is Weary Will the ...
'Twas in the days of front attack; This glorious truth we'd yet to learn it -- That every "front" has ...
Sometimes we collide, tectonic plates merging, continents shoving, crumpling down into the molten veins of fire deep in the earth ...
So it is the duty of the artist to discourage all traces of shame To extend all boundaries To fog ...
I make my way to MacEwen's salient red door To catch some remnants of her A faint scent lifting into ...
As a boy, Theodore, you sat for long hours On the shore of the turbid Spoon With deep-set eye staring ...
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk ...
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