#AmericanWriters
in our village are short and to th… While the mourners are finding the… Etta Andrews plays “Now the Day… No one is ashamed to wipe his or h… Then the Reverend stands up and r…
In love it may be dangerous to reckon on time to count on it time’s here and then it’s gone I’m not thinking of death or disaster but of
a sentimental curator has placed two fragments of bronze Grecian heads together boy and girl so that the faces black– ened by the three thousand years o…
Catullus is my master and I mix a little acid and a bit of honey in his bowl love is my subject & the lack of love which lack is what makes evil a
Am I a character in the dreams of the god Hermes the messenger? Certainly many of my dreams have nothing to do with the common life around me. There
How can we make it run backwards, That taciturn white circle with Its torpid black hands? We only Touch the hands when standard Time comes to shorten or daylight
A trout let us say a blue blonde trout that slips through the bars like water from boite to boite
How she let her long hair down ove… How when the lamplight was lowered… How their legs swam together like… How she sat beside him cross-legge… How she closed her eyes when his w…
Life kept rolling her over like a piece of driftwood in the surf of an angry sea she was intelligent and beau– tiful and well-off she made
For years I tried to conceal from the villagers that I wrote poetry I didn’t want the young men with beards wearing baseball caps who come to the liquor store in their pickups to bu...
One of us had to make the official… at the Medical Examiner’s Morgue Brinnin and I tossed a coin and I… It was a crummy building in the ho… and the basement, smelling of form…
You know our office on the 18th floor of the Salmon Tower looks right out on the Empire State and it just happened we were there finishing up some
Melissa and I were sitting by the little lake in Green Park in London playing “swapping minds.” It’s an old game that came down from