A Vast Confusion (Lawrence Ferlinghetti Poem)
Long long I lay in the sands Sounds of trains in the surf in subways of the sea And an ...
Long long I lay in the sands Sounds of trains in the surf in subways of the sea And an ...
A governor it was proclaimed this time, When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire Ancestral memories might come ...
My mother would be a falconress, And I, her gay falcon treading her wrist, would fly to bring back from ...
New York: You take a train that rips through versts. It feels as if the trains were running over your ...
In the night there are of course the seven wonders of the world and the greatness tragedy and enchantment. Forests ...
In the pleasant time of Pentecost, By the little river Kyll, I followed the angler's winding path Or waded the ...
They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; Thy flocks and ...
The Summer that we did not prize, Her treasures were so easy Instructs us by departing now And recognition lazy ...
Like Trains of Cars on Tracks of Plush I hear the level Bee -- A Jar across the Flowers goes ...
I know some lonely Houses off the Road A Robber'd like the look of -- Wooden barred, And Windows hanging ...
Is the current rate of global warming a serious and cogent warning? Do we need to think about the fact ...
Why do you rush through the fields in trains, Guessing so much and so much. Why do you flash through ...
Now it is time to say what you have to say. The room is quiet. The whirring fan has been ...
As sure as prehistoric fish grew legs and sauntered off the beaches into forests working up some irregular verbs for ...
All afternoon I have been struggling to communicate in Italian with Roberto and Giuseppe, who have begun to resemble the ...
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow, its white flag waving over everything, the landscape vanished, not a ...
There is a child I used to know who sat, perhaps, at this same desk where you sit now, and ...
My whole world is all you refuse: a black light, angelic and cold on the path to the orchard, fox-runs ...
Was it worth keeping the Halt open, We thought as we looked at the sky Red through the spread of ...
Bird-watching colonels on the old sea wall, Down here at Dawlish where the slow trains crawl: Low tide lifting, on ...
When melancholy Autumn comes to Wembley And electric trains are lighted after tea The poplars near the stadium are trembly ...
From the geyser ventilators Autumn winds are blowing down On a thousand business women Having baths in Camden Town Waste ...
Contemplating Hell, as I once heard it, My brother Shelley found it to be a place Much like the city ...
a novel by Richard Brautigan THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA The cover for Trout Fishing in America is ...
I. Said Abner, ``At last thou art come! Ere I tell, ere thou speak, ``Kiss my cheek, wish me well!'' ...
MY lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish ...
Man-Moth: Newspaper misprint for "mammoth." Here, above, cracks in the buldings are filled with battered moonlight. The whole shadow of ...
In the cold, cold parlor my mother laid out Arthur beneath the chromographs: Edward, Prince of Wales, with Princess Alexandra, ...
Earliest morning, switching all the tracks that cross the sky from cinder star to star, coupling the ends of streets ...
Sometimes I stroll through forests just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock into the bushes to distract ...
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