#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women
The sun is blazing and the sky is… Umbrellas clothe the beach in ever… Naked, you trot across the avenue. Oh, never have I seen a dog so ba… Naked and pink, without a single h…
We must admire her perfect aim, this huntress of the winter air whose level weapon needs no sight, if it were not that everywhere her game is sure, her shot is righ…
About the size of an old—style dol… American or Canadian, mostly the same whites, gray green… —this little painting (a sketch fo… has never earned any money in its…
September rain falls on the house. In the failing light, the old gran… sits in the kitchen with the child beside the Little Marvel Stove, reading the jokes from the almanac…
Love’s the boy stood on the burnin… trying to recite `The boy stood on the burning deck.' Love’s the son stood stammering elocution while the poor ship in flames went…
I am in need of music that would f… Over my fretful, feeling fingertip… Over my bitter—tainted, trembling… With melody, deep, clear, and liqu… Oh, for the healing swaying, old a…
My love, my saving grace, your eyes are awfully blue. I kiss your funny face, your coffee-flavored mouth. Last night I slept with you.
Think of the storm roaming the sky… like a dog looking for a place to… listen to it growling. Think how they must look now, the… lying out there unresponsive to th…
In Worcester, Massachusetts, I went with Aunt Consuelo to keep her dentist’s appointment and sat and waited for her in the dentist’s waiting room.
In the cold, cold parlor my mother laid out Arthur beneath the chromographs: Edward, Prince of Wales, with Princess Alexandra,
Half squatter, half tenant (no ren… a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me with vegetables, but you don’t; or you won’t; or yo…
At six o’clock we were waiting for… waiting for coffee and the charita… that was going to be served from a… —like kings of old, or like a mira… It was still dark. One foot of th…
Although it is a cold evening, down by one of the fishhouses an old man sits netting, his net, in the gloaming almost in… a dark purple—brown,
From a magician’s midnight sleeve the radio-singers distribute all their love-songs over the dew-wet lawns. And like a fortune-teller’s
My grandfather said to me as we sat on the wagon seat, “Be sure to remember to always speak to everyone you meet.” We met a stranger on foot.
