Songs For A Colored Singer (Elizabeth Bishop Poem)
I A washing hangs upon the line, but it's not mine. None of the things that I can see belong ...
I A washing hangs upon the line, but it's not mine. None of the things that I can see belong ...
The state with the prettiest name, the state that floats in brackish water, held together by mangrave roots that bear ...
Man-Moth: Newspaper misprint for "mammoth." Here, above, cracks in the buldings are filled with battered moonlight. The whole shadow of ...
The still explosions on the rocks, the lichens, grow by spreading, gray, concentric shocks. They have arranged to meet the ...
The moon in the bureau mirror looks out a million miles (and perhaps with pride, at herself, but she never, ...
I dreamed that dead, and meditating, I lay upon a grave, or bed, (at least, some cold and close-built bower). ...
Do you believe, in what you see do you believe in reality do you believe in the sun that's bright ...
Sometimes I stroll through forests just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock into the bushes to distract ...
As a girl, she hated the grain of anything on her fins. Now she is part fire ant, part centipede. ...
He thinks her little feet should pass Where dandelions star thickly grass; Her hands should lift in sunlit air Sea-wind ...
Here on the pale beach, in the darkness; With the full moon just to rise; They sit alone, and look ...
After the movie, when the lights come up, He takes her powdered hand behind the wings; She, all in yellow, ...
As evening falls, The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving, ...
Now, when the moon slid under the cloud And the cold clear dark of starlight fell, He heard in his ...
From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon ...
You read-what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand ...
'Draw three cards, and I will tell your future . . . Draw three cards, and lay them down, Rest ...
Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
from Senlin: A Biography It is moonlight. Alone in the silence I ascend my stairs once more, While waves, remote ...
I The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
I. (Bread and Music) Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was ...
When I knew, it was raining. Winter in decline. I was tired. You in your soaked shirt diffused into the ...
These little Songs, Found here and there, Floating in air By forest and lea, Or hill-side heather, In houses and ...
In Sussex here, by shingle and by sand, Flat fields and farmsteads in their wind-blown trees, The shallow tide-wave courses ...
The Boy from his bedroom-window Look'd over the little town, And away to the bleak black upland Under a clouded ...
October - and the skies are cool and gray O'er stubbles emptied of their latest sheaf, Bare meadow, and the ...
Chequer'd with woven shadows as I lay Among the grass, blinking the watery gleam, I saw an Echo-Spirit in his ...
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