Holding On (Philip Levine Poems)
Green fingers holding the hillside, mustard whipping in the sea winds, one blood-bright poppy breathing in and out. The odor ...
Green fingers holding the hillside, mustard whipping in the sea winds, one blood-bright poppy breathing in and out. The odor ...
"...his poems that no one reads anymore become dust, wind, nothing, like the insolent colored shirt he bought to die ...
I call out a secret name, the name of the angel who guards my sleep, and light grows in the ...
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