TO TRAMPS, The Unemployed, The Disinherited, and Miserable (Lucy Parsons Poems)
A word to the 35,000 now trampingthe streets of this great city,with hands in pockets, gazing listlessly about youat the ...
A word to the 35,000 now trampingthe streets of this great city,with hands in pockets, gazing listlessly about youat the ...
<i>1. The Enigma of Arrival</i>We are nude beneath our costumesas in the false myths we have been forcedto memorizeand there ...
Lying in bed this morning, just a yearSince our first days, I was trying to assess --Against my natural caution ...
Lying in bed this morning, just a yearSince our first days, I was trying to assess -Against my natural caution ...
WHEN the Millennium comesOnly the kings will fight,While the princes beat the drums,And the queens in aprons white,Arnica bottle in ...
You turn into a plant on the coasts of time.With a chalice of round skyand tunnel for traffic,you are the ...
OH AmericaThe sun sets in you.Are you the grave of our day?Shall I come to you, the open tomb of ...
i went to a movie showthe other evening in the cuffof a friends turned up trousersand saw the three little ...
When, darkly brooding on this Modern Age, The journalist with his marketable woes Fills up once more the inevitable page ...
(Written for music to be sung at a parish industrial exhibition)See the land, her Easter keeping,Rises as her Maker rose.Seeds, ...
That Whitsun, I was late getting away: Not till about One-twenty on the sunlit Saturday Did my three-quarters-empty train pull ...
When, darkly brooding on this Modern Age, The journalist with his marketable woes Fills up once more the inevitable page ...
Anything can be altered by the hand of man Nowhere on the planet is immune The trees were cut down ...
I In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, ...
Over the terminal, the arms and chest of the god brightened by snow. Formerly mercury, formerly silver, surface yellowed by ...
Is the current rate of global warming a serious and cogent warning? Do we need to think about the fact ...
Look at this storm, the idiot, pouring its heart out here, of all places, an industrial suburb on a Sunday, ...
Out of burlap sacks, out of bearing butter, Out of black bean and wet slate bread, Out of the acids ...
I walk among the rows of bowed heads-- the children are sleeping through fourth grade so as to be ready ...
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