#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize
On a parking lot staircase I met two fine-looking men descending, both in slacks and dress shirts, neckties much alike, one of the men
It’s a kitchen. Its curtains fill with a morning light so bright you can’t see beyond its windows into the afternoon. A kitchen falling through time with its thin…
In the clinic, a sun-bleached shel… on the shore of the city, you ente… the last small chamber, a little c… chastened with pearl, cool, white,… and over the chilly well of the to…
The divorce judge has asked for a… and you wait at the back of the co… as still as a flag on its stand, y… falling in smooth, even folds that… to gather the dust of white bouque…
You lie in your bed and sigh, and the springs deep in the mattre… sing out with the same low note, mocking your sadness. It’s hard— not the mattress, but life.
Cards in each mailbox, angel, manger, star and lamb, as the rural carrier, driving the snowy roads, hears from her bundles
How much it must bear on its back, a great ball of blue shadow, yet somehow it shines, keeps up an appearance. For hours tonight, I walked beneath it, learning.
In her eighties now, and weak and… with emphysema, my aunt sends me a birthday card-a tossing ocean with clipper ship-and wishes me we… at forty-four. She’s included
They have set aside their black ti… scratched and dented, spattered with drops of pink and b… and their dried-up, rolled-up tube… of alizarin crimson, chrome green,
What once was meant to be a statem… a dripping dagger held in the fist of a shuddering heart—is now just… on a bony old shoulder, the spot where vanity once punched him hard
On the floor of a parking garage I found a dead mouse. It was wint… the world gone gray outside and in… and the mouse a part of all that d… the smallest part. He stood
This is the tiny moth who lives on… who drinks like a deer at the glea… at the edge of the sleeper’s eye,… of its mouth as light as a cloud’s… In your dream, a moonlit figure ap…
Seventy years ago I made a pair o… from six-foot two-by-twos, with bl… to stand on nailed a foot from the… If I was to learn to walk on stil… them red and I had to wait almost…
The gravel road rides with a slow… over the fields, the telephone lin… streaming behind, its billow of du… full of the sparks of redwing blac… On either side, those dear old lad…
She had turned her face up into a rain of light, and came on smili… The light trickled down her forehe… and into her eyes. It ran down into the neck of her sweatshirt