A Sleepless Night (Philip Levine Poems)
April, and the last of the plum blossoms scatters on the black grass before dawn. The sycamore, the lime, the ...
April, and the last of the plum blossoms scatters on the black grass before dawn. The sycamore, the lime, the ...
This poem has a door, a locked door, and curtains drawn against the day, but at night the lights come ...
I bought a dollar and a half's worth of small red potatoes, took them home, boiled them in their jackets ...
Iron growing in the dark, it dreams all night long and will not work. A flower that hates God, a ...
Last night, again, I dreamed my children were back at home, small boys huddled in their separate beds, and I ...
Torn into light, you woke wriggling on a woman's palm. Halved, quartered, shredded to the wind, you were the life ...
When the Lieutenant of the Guardia de Asalto heard the automatic go off, he turned and took the second shot ...
1 We live here because the houses are clean, the lawns run right to the street and the streets run ...
If you were twenty-seven and had done time for beating our ex-wife and had no dreams you remembered in the ...
This harpie with dry red curls talked openly of her husband, his impotence, his death, the death of her lover, ...
If the shoe fell from the other foot who would hear? If the door opened onto a pure darkness and ...
Seven years ago I went into the High Sierras stunned by the desire to die. For hours I stared into ...
Filaments of light slant like windswept rain. The orange seller hawks into the sky, a man with a hat stops ...
"I've been where it hurts." the Kid He becomes Sierra Kid I passed Slimgullion, Morgan Mine, Camp Seco, and the ...
First light. This misted field is the world, that man slipping the greased bolt back and forth, that man tunneled ...
You pull over to the shoulder of the two-lane road and sit for a moment wondering where you were going ...
The day comes slowly in the railyard behind the ice factory. It broods on one cinder after another until each ...
Someone was calling someone; now they've stopped. Beyond the glass the rose vines quiver as in a light wind, but ...
A good man is seized by the police and spirited away. Months later someone brags that he shot him once ...
The air lay soffly on the green fur of the almond, it was April and I said, I begin again ...
The magpie in the Joshua tree Has come to rest. Darkness collects, And what I cannot hear or see, Broken ...
Rain filled the streets once a year, rising almost to door and window sills, battering walls and roofs until it ...
We stripped in the first warm spring night and ran down into the Detroit River to baptize ourselves in the ...
after Juan Ramon A child wakens in a cold apartment. The windows are frosted. Outside he hears words rising from ...
The river rises and the rains keep coming. My Papa says it can't flood for the water can run away ...
We stand in the rain in a long line waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work. You know what work ...
Can you imagine the air filled with smoke? It was. The city was vanishing before noon or was it earlier ...
I walk among the rows of bowed heads-- the children are sleeping through fourth grade so as to be ready ...
In Lake Forest, a suburb of Chicago, a woman sits at her desk to write me a letter. She holds ...
19 years old and going nowhere, I got a ride to Bessemer and walked the night road toward Birmingham passing ...
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