The Great Adventure of Max Breuck (Amy Lowell Poem)
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
Ah, well! but the case seems hopeless, and the pen might write in vain; The people gabble of old things ...
Since that first morning when I crawled into the world, a naked grubby thing, and found the world unkind, my ...
I caught rumours of some internal hearing then you appeared with tears squeezing your eyes, hands scrunched up like a ...
O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped! The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung On wands; the ...
for Greg Fallon A kid yells "Mother Fucker" out the school bus window. I don't think anyone notices the afternoon ...
Oh, thank heaven, no, really, thank heaven that we are justified by grace, not as an excuse, or a get ...
Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman, Some type of supernatural creature. My mother would tell you, ...
They'll always tell a story those obscure mementos stacked on dusty shelves, demure and silent like the other gaudy tributes ...
My thoughts are like the boots randomly arrayed in the rack outside the window, some in pairs neatly stacked, comfortably ...
Oh would I could subdue the flesh Which sadly troubles me! And then perhaps could view the flesh As though ...
Now the journey is ending, the wind is losing heart. Into your hands it's falling, a rickety house of cards. ...
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA PEACE In San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had a trout fishing ...
Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset, There must be one (which, I am not sure) That ...
Lone amid the cafe's cheer, Sad of heart am I to-night; Dolefully I drink my beer, But no single line ...
BY day the skyscraper looms in the smoke and sun and has a soul. Prairie and valley, streets of the ...
Mondays, way before dawn, before even the first hint of blue in the windows, we'd hear it start, off the ...
So gradual in those summers was the going of the age it seemed that the long days setting out when ...
My brother comes home from work and climbs the stairs to our room. I can hear the bed groan and ...
Shelves and stacks and shelves of skulls, a Dewey Decimal number inked on each unfurrowed forehead. Here's a skull who, ...
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