American Poetry
The Mountain
One moment, the mountain is clear in strong morning sunlight. The next, vanish…
One moment, the mountain is clear in strong morning sunlight. The next, vanish…
Even now, decades after, I wash my face with cold water - Not for disciplin…
Coloquei no quadro uma fotografia sua nesta mesma sala: sentado na poltro…
Tonight I lingered over your name, the delicate assembly of vowels a voice …
—Is where space ends called death or infinity? Pablo Neruda, The Book of Q…
Suddenly this defeat. This rain. The blues gone gray And the browns gone gray A…
Of course it was a disaster. The unbearable, dearest secret has always been a d…
Imagine if suffering were real. Imagine if those old people were afraid of deat…
What if Orpheus, confident in the hard- found mastery, should go down into Hell…
In the small towns along the river nothing happens day after long day. Summer w…
When the King of Siam disliked a courtier, he gave him a beautiful white elepha…