Hartley Field (Connie Wanek Poems)
<i>And place is always and only placeAnd what is actual is actual only for one timeAnd only for one place ...
<i>And place is always and only placeAnd what is actual is actual only for one timeAnd only for one place ...
ButterButter, like love,seems common enoughyet has so many imitators.I held a brick of it, heavy and cool,and glimpsed what seemed ...
A flower needs to be this sizeto conceal the winter window,and this color, the redof a Fiat with the top ...
Before you knew you owned itit was gone, stolen, and you were a fool.How you never felt it is the ...
Mittens are drying on the radiator,boots nearby, one on its side.Like some monstrous segmented insectthe radiator elongates under the window.Or ...
We used to play, long before we bought real houses.A roll of the dice could send a girl to jail.The ...
She leaned over the sinkher weight on her toesand applied lipstickin quick certain strokesthe way a man signshis hundredth autographof ...
Each picture is heartbreakingly banal, a kitten and a ball of yarn, a dog and bone. The paper is cheap, ...
I don't know if we're in the beginning or in the final stage. -- Tomas Tranströmer Rain is falling through ...
In the democracy of daisies every blossom has one vote. The question on the ballot is Does he love me? ...
There is menace in its relentless course, round and round, describing an ellipsoid, an airy prison in which a young ...
Butter, like love, seems common enough yet has so many imitators. I held a brick of it, heavy and cool, ...
Before you knew you owned it it was gone, stolen, and you were a fool. How you never felt it ...
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