Demolition (Mark Doty Poem)
The intact facade's now almost black in the rain; all day they've torn at the back of the building, "the ...
The intact facade's now almost black in the rain; all day they've torn at the back of the building, "the ...
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love, Or chide my palsy, or my gout, My five grey ...
Where bells no more affright the morn -- Where scrabble never comes -- Where very nimble Gentlemen Are forced to ...
You've seen Balloons set -- Haven't You? So stately they ascend -- It is as Swans -- discarded You, For ...
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep -- Its awful chamber open stands -- Its Curtains blandly sweep ...
Taken from men -- this morning -- Carried by men today -- Met by the Gods with banners -- Who ...
Of nearness to her sundered Things The Soul has special times -- When Dimness -- looks the Oddity -- Distinctness ...
Fortitude incarnate Here is laid away In the swift Partitions Of the awful Sea -- Babble of the Happy Cavil ...
Did Our Best Moment last -- 'Twould supersede the Heaven -- A few -- and they by Risk -- procure ...
What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord? Where the maids? Behold, what ...
The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying -- this to Us Made Nature ...
I died for Beauty -- but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain ...
As a child I played in the same frosty fields barefoot as my no lesser loved classmates, whom we challenged ...
This house which is lived in resounds with the chorus of voices bound in the press of its generous, unconcealed ...
For more than 40 years we've been good friends, since 1963 in fact, from college where we met (and managed ...
Half past twelve. Time has gone by quickly since nine o'clock when I lit the lamp and sat down here. ...
In these darkened rooms, where I spend oppresive days, I pace to and fro to find the windows. -- When ...
If I had been a Heathen, I'd have praised the purple vine, My slaves should dig the vineyards, And I ...
A vagueness comes over everything, as though proving color and contour alike dispensable: the lighthouse extinct, the islands' spruce-tips drunk ...
There is a section in my library for death and another for Irish history, a few shelves for the poetry ...
Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult. You always wore brown, the color craze of the ...
In most self-portraits it is the face that dominates: Cezanne is a pair of eyes swimming in brushstrokes, Van Gogh ...
Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line, The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gum Superb above ...
The angel of self-discipline, her guardian Since she first knew and had to go away From home that spring to ...
I woke up, it was the house where I was born. It was raining softly in all the rooms, I ...
The kind old face, the egg-shaped head, The tie, discreetly loud, The loosely fitting shooting clothes, A closely fitting shroud. ...
ARRANGING long-locked drawers and shelves Of cabinets, shut up for years, What a strange task we've set ourselves ! How ...
Long ago I wished to leave " The house where I was born; " Long ago I used to grieve, ...
"Oh yes, I went over to Edmonstoun the other day and saw Johnny, mooning around as usual! He will never ...
A RETURN TO THE COVER OF THIS BOOK Dear Trout Fishing in America: I met your friend Fritz in Washington ...
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