St. Peter and the Angel (Denise Levertov Poem)
Delivered out of raw continual pain, smell of darkness, groans of those others to whom he was chained-- unchained, and ...
Delivered out of raw continual pain, smell of darkness, groans of those others to whom he was chained-- unchained, and ...
I Some day I will go to Aarhus To see his peat-brown head, The mild pods of his eye-lids, His ...
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf-Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair ...
Out yonder in the moonlight, wherein God's Acre lies, Go angels walking to and fro, singing their lullabies. Their radiant ...
Here on the slopes of hills, facing the dusk and the cannon of time Close to the gardens of broken ...
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then, But ...
In the beginning there was light, abundant light that truly lit the way, time was never lost in dodging flights ...
Was it worth keeping the Halt open, We thought as we looked at the sky Red through the spread of ...
ADVERTISEMENT "The grand army of the Turks, (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into ...
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And ...
IA STORM of white petals, Buds throwing open baby fists Into hands of broad flowers. IIRed roses running upward, Clambering ...
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth Rejoicing in his ...
DEATH, to the dead for evermore A King, a God, the last, the best of friends - Whene'er this mortal ...
I AM singing to you Soft as a man with a dead child speaks; Hard as a man in handcuffs, ...
I AM riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains of the nation. Hurtling across the prairie into ...
PEA pods cling to stems. Neponset, the village, Clings to the Burlington railway main line. Terrible midnight limiteds roar through ...
THERE is a wolf in me . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . a red tongue for raw meat . ...
I study the lives on a leaf: the little Sleepers, numb nudgers in cold dimensions, Beetles in caves, newts, stone-deaf ...
A Poem for Three Voices Setting: A Maternity Ward and round about FIRST VOICE: I am slow as the world. ...
No map traces the street Where those two sleepers are. We have lost track of it. They lie as if ...
It seemed that out of the battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which ...
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