#Americans #USPoetLaureate #XXCentury #XXICentury
Pale gold of the walls, gold of the centers of daisies, yellow roses pressing from a clear bowl. All day we lay on the bed, my hand stroking the deep
When the young husband picked up his fri… in the taxi one block from her townhouse… first lunch together, in a hotel dining… with a room key in his pocket, midtown traffic gridlocked and was abrup…
A storm was coming, that was why it was dark. The wind was blowing the fronds of the palm trees off. They were maples. I looked out the window across the big lawn. The house was huge, f...
Twelve people, most of us strangers, sta… in Ann Arbor, drinking Cribari from jar… Then two young men, who cooked him, carry him to the table on a large square of plywood: his body
“At pet stores in Detroit, you can buy frozen rats for seventy-five cents apiece, to feed your pet boa constrictor” back home in Grosse Pointe,
#FreeVerse
1. Baseball, I warrant, is not the wh… occupation of the aging boy. Far from it: There are cats and roses; there is her water body. She fills the skin of her legs up, like water;
At the edge of the city the pickerel vomits and dies. The river with its white hair staggers to the sea. My life lay crumpled like a smashed car. Windows barred, ivy, square stone.
The clock of my days winds down. The cat eats sparrows outside my window. Once, she brought me a small rabbit which we devoured together, under the Empire Table
Fifteen years ago his heart infarcted and he stopped smoking. At eighty he trembled like a birch but remained vigorous and acute.
If he and she do not know each other, an… they will not meet again; if he avoids a… if she has grown insensible skin under s… only the tribute of another’s cry; if th… as revenge on old lovers or families of…
when my father had been dead a week I woke with his voice in my ear I sat up in bed and held my breath
August, goldenrod blowing. We walk into the graveyard, to find my grandfather’s grave. Ten years ago I came here last, bringing marigolds from the round garden
A woman who lived in a tree caught the moon in a kettle. The wind on the roof of the tree thumped
Images leap with him from branch to branch. His eyes brighten, his head cocks, he pauses under a green bough, And when I see him I want to hide him somewhere. The other wood ...
High on a slope in New Guinea The Grumman Hellcat lodges among bright vines as thick as arms. In 1943, the clenched hand of a pilot