The Cossacks (Linda Pastan Poems)
For Jews, the Cossacks are always coming.Therefore I think the sun spot on my armis melanoma. Therefore I celebrateNew Year's ...
Linda Pastan Poems (21 Poems)
Vermilion (Linda Pastan Poems)
Pierre Bonnard would enterthe museum with a tube of paintin his pocket and a sable brush.Then violating the sanctityof one ...
Love Poem (Linda Pastan Poems)
I want to write youa love poem as headlongas our creekafter thawwhen we standon its dangerousbanks and watch it carrywith ...
Marks (Linda Pastan Poems)
My husband gives me an Afor last night's supper,an incomplete for my ironing,a B plus in bed.My son says I ...
Self-Portrait (Linda Pastan Poems)
After Adam Zagajewski I am child to no one, mother to a few, wife for the long haul. On fall ...
Jump Cabling (Linda Pastan Poems)
When our cars touched When you lifted the hood of mine To see the intimate workings underneath, When we were ...
Pears (Linda Pastan Poems)
Some say it was a pear Eve ate. Why else the shape of the womb, or of the cello Whose ...
Emily Dickinson (Linda Pastan Poems)
We think of hidden in a white dress among the folded linens and sachets of well-kept cupboards, or just out ...
Wind Chill (Linda Pastan Poems)
The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever the ...
Something About The Trees (Linda Pastan Poems)
I remember what my father told me: There is an age when you are most yourself. He was just past ...
Meditation By The Stove (Linda Pastan Poems)
I have banked the fires of my body into a small but steady blaze here in the kitchen where the ...
A New Poet (Linda Pastan Poems)
Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don't see its name in ...
Petit Dejeuner (Linda Pastan Poems)
I sing a song of the croissant and of the wily French who trick themselves daily back to the world ...
Linda Pastan – Vermilion (Linda Pastan Poems)
Pierre Bonnard would enter the museum with a tube of paint in his pocket and a sable brush. Then violating ...
To A Daughter Leaving Home (Linda Pastan Poems)
When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away on two ...
Shadblow (Linda Pastan Poems)
Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their tarnished silvery fins, ...
Home For Thanksgiving (Linda Pastan Poems)
The gathering family throws shadows around us, it is the late afternoon Of the family. There is still enough light ...
Prosody 101 (Linda Pastan Poems)
When they taught me that what mattered most was not the strict iambic line goose-stepping over the page but the ...
What We Want (Linda Pastan Poems)
What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an ...
The Happiest Day (Linda Pastan Poems)
It was early May, I think a moment of lilac or dogwood when so many promises are made it hardly ...
The New Dog (Linda Pastan Poems)
Into the gravity of my life, the serious ceremonies of polish and paper and pen, has come this manic animal ...