Iva’s Pantoum (Marilyn Hacker Poems)
We pace each other for a long time. I packed my anger with the beef jerky. You are the baby ...
We pace each other for a long time. I packed my anger with the beef jerky. You are the baby ...
In the shop, a bit too pretty, pristine I caught a few subtle, furtive, slightly disdainful glances supposing, deciding we ...
Flat hoods sit splayed on our backs wool, buffalo plaid inside, pulled forward, catch hair before the snorkel coats the ...
(with apologies to Frederic Taber Cooper) I well recall (and who does not) The circus bill-board hippopotamus, whose wide distended ...
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye garden of roses! In you let the minions of luxury rove; Restore me to the ...
BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows, 'Mang moors an' mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos'd, And ...
O A' ye pious godly flocks, Weel fed on pastures orthodox, Wha now will keep you frae the fox, Or ...
GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date, When I was bardless, young, and blate, An' first could thresh the barn, ...
WITH secret throes I marked that earth, That cottage, witness of my birth; And near I saw, bold issuing forth ...
Chorus.-Ca' the yowes to the knowes, Ca' them where the heather grows, Ca' them where the burnie rowes, My bonie ...
RecitativoWHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird, Or wavering like the bauckie-bird, Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; When hailstanes drive wi' bitter ...
When I was young and bold and strong, Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong! My plume on high, ...
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short ...
Alas! the people's hearts are now full of sorrow For the deceased Professor Blackie, of Edinboro'; Because he was a ...
I. Insomnia The bulb at the front door burns and burns. If it were a white rose it would tire ...
Holland, that scarce deserves the name of Land, As but th'Off-scouring of the Brittish Sand; And so much Earth as ...
The forward youth that would appear Must now forsake his Muses dear, Nor in the shadows sing His numbers languishing. ...
An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return From Ireland The forward youth that would appear Must now forsake his muses dear, ...
Strong sun, that bleach The curtains of my room, can you not render Colourless this dress I wear?- This violent ...
People sit numbly at the counter waiting for breakfast or service. Today it's Hartford, Connecticut more than twenty-five years after ...
In Lake Forest, a suburb of Chicago, a woman sits at her desk to write me a letter. She holds ...
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