A Woman Waking (Philip Levine Poems)
She wakens early remembering her father rising in the dark lighting the stove with a match scraped on the floor. ...
She wakens early remembering her father rising in the dark lighting the stove with a match scraped on the floor. ...
If you were twenty-seven and had done time for beating our ex-wife and had no dreams you remembered in the ...
Four bright steel crosses, universal joints, plucked out of the burlap sack -- "the heart of the drive train," the ...
"...his poems that no one reads anymore become dust, wind, nothing, like the insolent colored shirt he bought to die ...
I call out a secret name, the name of the angel who guards my sleep, and light grows in the ...
A solitary apartment house, the last one before the boulevard ends and a dusty road winds its slow way out ...
Out of burlap sacks, out of bearing butter, Out of black bean and wet slate bread, Out of the acids ...
The sun came up before breakfast, perfectly round and yellow, and we dressed in the soft light and shook out ...
A good man is seized by the police and spirited away. Months later someone brags that he shot him once ...
Pond snipe, bleached pine, rue weed, wart -- I walk by sedge and brown river rot to where the old ...
Since I don't know who will be reading this or even if it will be read, I must invent someone ...
Shake out my pockets! Harken to the call Of that calm voice that makes no sound at all! Take of ...
after Juan Ramon A child wakens in a cold apartment. The windows are frosted. Outside he hears words rising from ...
Take this quiet woman, she has been standing before a polishing wheel for over three hours, and she lacks twenty ...
Words go on travelling from voice to voice while the phones are still and the wires hum in the cold. ...
THE DREAM This has nothing to do with war or the end of the world. She dreams there are gray ...
3-foot blue cannisters of nitro along a conveyor belt, slow fish speaking the language of silence. On the roof, I ...
Someone was calling someone; now they've stopped. Beyond the glass the rose vines quiver as in a light wind, but ...
We stand in the rain in a long line waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work. You know what work ...
If the shoe fell from the other foot who would hear? If the door opened onto a pure darkness and ...
He made a line on the blackboard, one bold stroke from right to left diagonally downward and stood back to ...
Remember how unimportant they seemed, growing loosely in the open fields we crossed on the way to school. We would ...
"I've been where it hurts." the Kid He becomes Sierra Kid I passed Slimgullion, Morgan Mine, Camp Seco, and the ...
Earth and water without form, change, or pause: as if the third day had not come, this calm norm of ...
I walk among the rows of bowed heads-- the children are sleeping through fourth grade so as to be ready ...
Some days I catch a rhythm, almost a song in my own breath. I'm alone here in Brooklyn Heights, late ...
The magpie in the Joshua tree Has come to rest. Darkness collects, And what I cannot hear or see, Broken ...
On March 1, 1958, four deserters from the French Army of North Africa, August Rein, Henri Bruette, Jack Dauville, & ...
Brooklyn, 1929. Of course Crane's been drinking and has no idea who this curious Andalusian is, unable even to speak ...
Vous êtes sorti sain et sauf des basses calomnies, vous avey conquis les coeurs. Zola, J'accuse One was kicked in ...
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