The Assassinatio (Donald Justice Poems)
It begins again, the nocturnal pulse. It courses through the cables laid for it. It mounts to the chandeliers and ...
It begins again, the nocturnal pulse. It courses through the cables laid for it. It mounts to the chandeliers and ...
They didn't meet me, roamed,On steps with lanterns bright.I entered quiet homeIn murky, pail moonlight. Under a lamp's green halo,With ...
The black snow runs down from the rooftops;A red finger dips into your brow;Blue snow flakes sink into the empty ...
It begins again, the nocturnal pulse. It courses through the cables laid for it. It mounts to the chandeliers and ...
I stand in the advancing light, my hands hungry, the world beautiful. My eyes can't get enough of the trees-- ...
it's 1962 March 28th I'm sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train night is falling I never knew I ...
This is not the way I am. Really, I am much taller in person, the hairline I conceal reaches back ...
If I were gusty April now, How I would blow at laughing Rose; I'd make her ribbons slip their knots, ...
I tend my flowers for thee -- Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia's Coral Seams Rip -- while the Sower -- dreams ...
We should not mind so small a flower -- Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back ...
Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)- a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
It is full winter now: the trees are bare, Save where the cattle huddle from the cold Beneath the pine, ...
THE LANDS OF MY CHILDHOOD 1 I am leaving the holy city of Leeds For the last time for the ...
For a Man is to be looked upon in that which he excells as on a prospect. For there be ...
I O THOU, that sit'st upon a throne, With harp of high majestic tone, To praise the King of kings; ...
1 Against the stone breakwater, Only an ominous lapping, While the wind whines overhead, Coming down from the mountain, Whistling ...
I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz or the arrow of carnations the ...
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots ...
Come with me, I said, and no one knew where, or how my pain throbbed, no carnations or barcaroles for ...
Words go on travelling from voice to voice while the phones are still and the wires hum in the cold. ...
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