The Crystal Lithium (James Schuyler Poems)
The smell of snow, stinging in nostrils as the wind lifts it from a beachEve-shuttering, mixed with sand, or when ...
The smell of snow, stinging in nostrils as the wind lifts it from a beachEve-shuttering, mixed with sand, or when ...
IIn the purple light, heavy with redwood, the slopes drop seaward,Headlong convexities of forest, drawn in together to the steepravine. ...
When the moon is born in the east,And the white rooftops drift asleepUnder the heaped-up light,People leave their shops and ...
Because no one could ever praise me enough,because I don't mean these poems onlybut the unseenunbelievable effort it takes to ...
THESE August nights, hushed but for drowsy peepOf fledglings, tremble with a strange vibration,A sound too far for hearing, sullen, ...
1 Out of the night of lovelessness I call Thee, as, in a chill chamber where no rays ...
Things of great worth shall come to passBy true foreknowledge and in fact,-Names worthier than mine in fameAnd words which ...
My days are as a garden, where the dustOf acrid fruits of Sodom sows the ground,And bows vermillion lillies lofty-crowned,Or ...
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl ...
If any God should say, "I will restore The world her yesterday Whole as before My Judgment blasted it"--who would ...
The tractor stands frozen - an agony To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering ...
The calendar says a little early but the dandelions are up the crocuses past their prime soon the lilies will ...
Our savior, our brother the coming Christ child remember his coming to earth as a baby boy The father sending ...
Over the terminal, the arms and chest of the god brightened by snow. Formerly mercury, formerly silver, surface yellowed by ...
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti) My wife with the hair of a wood fire With the thoughts of ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
you haven't lived until you've been in a flophouse with nothing but one light bulb and 56 men squeezed together ...
It is all right. All they do Is go in by dividing One rib from another. I wouldn't Lie to ...
Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman. I don't know who you're hiding behind your mask, your face stolen ...
The saintly hermit, midway through his prayers stopped suddenly, and raised his eyes to witness the unbelievable: for there before ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories