Gathering Mushrooms (Paul Muldoon Poems)
As he knelt by the grave of his mother and fatherthe taste of dill, or tarragon-he could barely tell one ...
As he knelt by the grave of his mother and fatherthe taste of dill, or tarragon-he could barely tell one ...
The noon is on the cattle-track;the air is void of sound,except where crows, poised burning-black,cry to the dusty ground.Through mulga ...
Where I waved at the sky And waited your love through a February sleep, I saw birds swinging in, watched ...
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