The Distant Winter (Philip Levine Poems)
from an officer's diary during the last war I The sour daylight cracks through my sleep-caked lids. "Stephan! Stephan!" The ...
from an officer's diary during the last war I The sour daylight cracks through my sleep-caked lids. "Stephan! Stephan!" The ...
I walk among the rows of bowed heads-- the children are sleeping through fourth grade so as to be ready ...
1 Dawn. First light tearing at the rough tongues of the zinnias, at the leaves of the just born. Today ...
My father and mother, two tiny figures, side by side, facing the clouds that move in from the Atlantic. August, ...
The day comes slowly in the railyard behind the ice factory. It broods on one cinder after another until each ...
Since I don't know who will be reading this or even if it will be read, I must invent someone ...
"Hill of Jews," says one, named for a cemetery long gone."Hill of Jove," says another, and maybe Jove stalked here ...
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