The Hammers (Amy Lowell Poem)
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
When you, my Dear, are away, away, How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and night ...
Down the street as I was drifting with the city's human tide, Came a ghost, and for a moment walked ...
I want to understand the steep thing that climbs ladders in your throat. I can't make sense of you. Everywhere ...
I watched them once, at dusk, on television, run, in our motel room half-way through Nebraska, quick, glittering, past beauty, ...
WHAT various ways in which a thing is told Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold; In stories we invention ...
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know that the universe is ever-expanding, inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies swallowed by galaxies, ...
A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe -- And golden hang -- while farther up -- ...
THE PROLOGUE. When that the Knight had thus his tale told In all the rout was neither young nor old, ...
The three men coming down the winter hill In brown, with tall poles and a pack of hounds At heel, ...
The three men coming down the winter hill In brown, with tall poles and a pack of hounds At heel, ...
1 WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan! Head from the mother's bowels drawn! Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one, and ...
Right down the shocked street with a siren-blast That sends all else skittering to the curb, Redness, brass, ladders and ...
The Sun, who never stops to dine, Two hours had pass'd the mid-way line, And driving at his usual rate, ...
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound ...
Under my bowels, yellow with smoke, it waits. Under my eyes, those milk bunnies, it waits. It is waiting. It ...
After they passed beneath us I could tell more would be coming, beneath the sand, under the bejeweled sky, under ...
SOMEWHERE you and I remember we came. Stairways from the sea and our heads dripping. Ladders of dust and mud ...
I shall never get you put together entirely, Pieced, glued, and properly jointed. Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles Proceed from ...
Ithaca, October 1993: Jorie went on a lingerie tear, wanting to look like a moll in a Chandler novel. Dinner, ...
If you were twenty-seven and had done time for beating our ex-wife and had no dreams you remembered in the ...
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