White Heron (John Anthony Ciardi Poems)
What lifts the heron leaning on the airI praise without a name. A crouch, a flare,a long stroke through the ...
What lifts the heron leaning on the airI praise without a name. A crouch, a flare,a long stroke through the ...
LAST night we had a hurry call to go to daughter May, Her husband said that Ma and me were ...
Down here in Cactus Center we believe in savin' time;Unlike the waste of powder, wastin' daylight is a crime;So we ...
He'll be pleased if I phone to ask him how he is. It will make me look considerate and he ...
I He would drink by himself And raise a weathered thumb Towards the high shelf, Calling another rum And blackcurrant, ...
The West Village by then was changing; before long the rundown brownstones at its farthest edge would have slipped into ...
the night I was going to die I was sweating on the bed and I could hear the crickets and ...
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian ...
(or 'Huddersfield the Second Poetry Capital of England Re-visited') What was it Janice Simmons said to me as James lay ...
She phoned them when the Round was Eight: 'How is my Joe?' they heard her say. They answered: 'Gee! He's ...
A grey gull hovered overhead, Then wisely flew away. 'In half a jiffy you'll be dead,' I thought I heard ...
Jill. Fred phoned. He can't make tonight. He said he'd call again, as soon as poss. I said (on your ...
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