The Dead (Philip Levine Poems)
A good man is seized by the police and spirited away. Months later someone brags that he shot him once ...
A good man is seized by the police and spirited away. Months later someone brags that he shot him once ...
Hungry and cold, I stood in a doorway on Delancey Street in 1946 as the rain came down. The worst ...
The winter sun, golden and tired, settles on the irregular army of bottles. Outside the trucks jostle toward the open ...
Earth and water without form, change, or pause: as if the third day had not come, this calm norm of ...
The last of day gathers in the yellow parlor and drifts like fine dust across the face of the gilt-framed ...
The first time I drank gin I thought it must be hair tonic. My brother swiped the bottle from a ...
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