House Of Silence (Philip Levine Poems)
The winter sun, golden and tired, settles on the irregular army of bottles. Outside the trucks jostle toward the open ...
The winter sun, golden and tired, settles on the irregular army of bottles. Outside the trucks jostle toward the open ...
This harpie with dry red curls talked openly of her husband, his impotence, his death, the death of her lover, ...
Rain filled the streets once a year, rising almost to door and window sills, battering walls and roofs until it ...
We stand in the rain in a long line waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work. You know what work ...
The river rises and the rains keep coming. My Papa says it can't flood for the water can run away ...
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