Affair With Various Endings (Kate Northrop Poems)
I. Kempton, PennsylvaniaPerhaps the last of the lightlifting this evening from the field of wheatmeans something. Perhaps the viewincludes us, ...
I. Kempton, PennsylvaniaPerhaps the last of the lightlifting this evening from the field of wheatmeans something. Perhaps the viewincludes us, ...
This will be a night in deep snowwhich has the power to muffle stepsin deep shadow transformingbodies to two puddles ...
Their reward isthey become innocent again,and when they reappear in memorydeath has completely erasedthe blurs, given them boundaries. They riseand ...
Looking to harvest what makes him happy.The AA meetings have thrownhim into iconoclastic jousts with Titansand Gorgons with glowing snake ...
Sublime beverage, supreme tipple,The slick nectar (but the Haig's slicker!)Which gods drew from a divine nippleAnd thick nights became a ...
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
Eating, drinking, smoking, laughter,Reverly and wild to-do -They shake the inn from floor to rafterWith huzzahing and halloo.There Twardowski heads ...
And the Communists have nothing to offer but fat cheeks and eyeglasses and lying policemen and the Capitalists proffer Napalm ...
I am in a crate, the crate that was ours,full of white shirts and salad greens,the icebox knocking at our ...
We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers.White clouds refused to accept them, and the windWas too ...
After the first glass of vodkayou can accept just about anythingof life even your own mysteriousnessyou think it is nice ...
What was is . . . since 1930; the boys in my old gang are senior partners. They start up ...
O! Und dann wieder dies Bei-sich-selbst-Sein! Diese Stummheiten! Dies Getriebenwerden! .................................................................................. O! And then to be with -our -very -selves! ...
drunk on the dark streets of some city, it's night, you're lost, where's your room? you enter a bar to ...
No monument stands over Babi Yar. A drop sheer as a crude gravestone. I am afraid. Today I am as ...
Moist, moist, the heat leaking through the hinges, sun baking the roof like a pie and I and thou and ...
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
I am in a crate, the crate that was ours, full of white shirts and salad greens, the icebox knocking ...
This is the yarn he told me As we sat in Casey's Bar, That Rooshun mug who scammed from the ...
It begins with one or two soldiers And one or two following With hampers over their shoulders. They might be ...
We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers. White clouds refused to accept them, and the wind ...
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