Salts And Oils (Philip Levine Poems)
In Havana in 1948 I ate fried dog believing it was Peking duck. Later, in Tampa I bunked with an ...
In Havana in 1948 I ate fried dog believing it was Peking duck. Later, in Tampa I bunked with an ...
Shake out my pockets! Harken to the call Of that calm voice that makes no sound at all! Take of ...
My brother comes home from work and climbs the stairs to our room. I can hear the bed groan and ...
If the shoe fell from the other foot who would hear? If the door opened onto a pure darkness and ...
Filaments of light slant like windswept rain. The orange seller hawks into the sky, a man with a hat stops ...
Numb, stiff, broken by no sleep, I keep night watch. Looking for signs to quiet fear, I creep closer to ...
The gates are chained, the barbed-wire fencing stands, An iron authority against the snow, And this grey monument to common ...
He made a line on the blackboard, one bold stroke from right to left diagonally downward and stood back to ...
We stripped in the first warm spring night and ran down into the Detroit River to baptize ourselves in the ...
Remember how unimportant they seemed, growing loosely in the open fields we crossed on the way to school. We would ...
1 We live here because the houses are clean, the lawns run right to the street and the streets run ...
This harpie with dry red curls talked openly of her husband, his impotence, his death, the death of her lover, ...
3-foot blue cannisters of nitro along a conveyor belt, slow fish speaking the language of silence. On the roof, I ...
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