Praying Drunk (Andrew Hudgins Poem)
Our Father who art in heaven, I am drunk. Again. Red wine. For which I offer thanks. I ought to ...
Our Father who art in heaven, I am drunk. Again. Red wine. For which I offer thanks. I ought to ...
Dear Condor: Much thanks for that telephonic support from North Carolina when I suddenly went ape in the Iowa tulips. ...
O Sacred Providence, who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write, And not of thee, through ...
A Nation of trees, drab green and desolate grey In the field uniform of modern wars, Darkens her hills, those ...
(to where the ashes of both my parents are strewn) i) ok the pair of you lie still what's disturbing ...
WITH a bridegroom's joyous bearing, Mounts Sir Curt his noble beast, To his mistress' home repairing, There to hold his ...
In the fairy tale the sky makes of itself a coat because it needs you to put it on. How ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
A proper noun - Personal Poetry - Quick encapsulation, State of hesitance. Slices of me Flesh and nerve Risk of ...
The monster has escaped from the dungeon where he was kept by the Baron, who made him with knobs sticking ...
Once, and but once found in thy company, All thy supposed escapes are laid on me; And as a thief ...
How much of Source escapes with thee -- How chief thy sessions be -- For thou hast borne a universe ...
The Life that tied too tight escapes Will ever after run With a prudential look behind And spectres of the ...
Whangaehu waters, hot-spilled from the cauldron of Crater Lake, swirling mud-green from the cup between Tahurangi and Pyramid Peak, sulphurous, ...
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still-- My country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English ...
For Margot Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, ...
For Margot Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, ...
To at last be indestructible, a poem must first glow, almost flammable, upon a thing inert, as gray, as dull ...
There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, And this story ...
There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, And this story ...
SHORTLY AFTER THE REVIVAL OF LEARNING IN EUROPE. Let us begin and carry up this corpse, Singing together. Leave we ...
Lo giorno se n'andava, e l'aere bruno toglieva li animai che sono in terra da le fatiche loro; e io ...
This is the lair of the landlady She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. the continuous ...
The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams, The nearly invisible stitches along the collar Turned in a sweatshop by ...
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round ...
There comes a time in every man's life when he thinks: I have never had a single original thought in ...
Numb, stiff, broken by no sleep, I keep night watch. Looking for signs to quiet fear, I creep closer to ...
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